The Pursuit of Happiness
by kbrand5333
Summary: 1960s AU, Arthur and Gwen slowly find their way to each other in the middle of the Civil Rights movement.
1. Chapter 1

"_In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."_

_-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., "I Have a Dream"_

xXx

Memphis, Tennessee, August 28, 1963

"Merlin, there's no place to sit," Arthur grumbles, peering into the dimly-lit elementary school gymnasium.

It is a sea of people, some talking excitedly, some sitting quietly in metal folding chairs, pensive, lost in thought. Waiting anxiously. Arthur scans the crowd, his eyes dancing across the myriad shades of brown in their faces, ranging from tawny sand to the deepest mahogany. Here and there sit a few pale, peachy-pink faces, but the crowd is largely Negro.

"So we stand," Merlin shrugs, looking casually around. "Gwaine said he was coming; I don't see him… Wait, there's Aaron. I know him, come on," Merlin tugs Arthur's jacket sleeve and they weave their way through the crowd towards Merlin's friend.

"I don't understand why we can't just watch this on TV at home," Arthur mutters, and Merlin shushes him.

As they make their way through the throng, Arthur is expecting to get strange looks, maybe even accusatory stares. _I was afraid that I would feel like the enemy here, but everyone seems… accepting. They're looking, but not staring._

"Aaron!" Merlin exclaims, tapping a very short, very slender black man on the shoulder.

"Hey, Merls, what's shakin', Irish?" Aaron says brightly, holding his palm out flat.

Merlin slaps it, then clasps his hand briefly. "Thought we'd come out and join the party," he says. "This is my friend, Arthur."

"Hey, Artie, nice to meet ya," Aaron greets him, and Merlin chuckles as he watches Arthur try not to bristle at being called "Artie."

"Good to meet you, too, Aaron. I, um, prefer Arthur, though." He shakes the small man's hand warmly and smiles equally warmly, to soften the blow.

"Ain't no thing, man, just keepin' it loose," Aaron shrugs.

"Have you seen Gwaine?" Merlin asks.

"Naw, man, he ain't gon' be here. He won't close up his place," Aaron laughs.

"He said he was coming," Merlin mumbles, hugging the wall briefly as a young couple squeezes past him, muttering their "excuse me"s as they pass.

"Shut up, the lights are going down," Arthur prods Merlin, and they attempt to get comfortable in the back corner of the crowded gym.

xXx

"He is so inspirational," Gwen whispers to her brother in the dim, tears shining in her eyes as she watches the broadcast, Dr. King's face on the screen of a large television on a cart positioned at the front of the gym.

"Yeah," her brother agrees, glancing at her rapt face with its shining eyes. "I just hope important people are listening. Really listening."

"Me, too."

_"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."_

Elyan hears his sister's breathing hitch into a quiet sob. She is crying now, and she is not alone. Gwen reaches into her purse and withdraws a handkerchief, nothing more than a small square of white linen with a _G_ embroidered on the corner by her own hand, and dabs her eyes. Elyan puts his arm around his sister.

_"I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers."_

"You're thinking about your students, ain't ya?" Elyan leans over and whispers in her ear. Gwen nods, dabbing both her eyes and nose now.

"That's all I want for any of them. To grow up knowing that they matter," she says, her voice shaky.

"They know they matter. You tell them they do," he reassures her. "You are the best kindergarten teacher at this school, Gwen. At any school, black or white."

"Thanks," she sniffs.

They sit quietly for a bit, listening to the speech, punctuated from time to time with various outbursts from the crowd, ranging from quiet "Mmm-hmm"s to shouts of "Preach it, Dr. King!"

_"And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!'"_

The crowd erupts as one, rising to their feet, cheering, applauding, whistling, hugging everyone around them.

xXx

"Wow," Arthur says, walking out of the school.

"I know, it was brilliant, right?" Merlin says, bumping into his friend as someone brushes past him.

"You were right. It was better watching it that way than at home, alone."

"Told you."

"That was the best speech I've ever heard, Merlin. It wasn't even a speech. It was a…"  
"A sermon," Merlin supplies.

"Yeah. Hell, if I could orate like that, I would never lose a case," Arthur says.

"_That's_ what hit you?" Merlin asks, incredulous. He stops, looking right and left. "Where the bloody hell did I put my car?"

"I knew I shouldn't've let you drive," Arthur mutters. He grabs Merlin's elbow and tugs left. "And _yes,_ I got the message he was layin' down. I'm just sayin' he was a really powerful speaker and I wish I was that good."

"He's had more experience," Merlin laughs, dropping behind Arthur as their path narrows again.

"Well, I was payin' attention to more than just his words, I tell you what," Arthur says, turning and looking back over his shoulder at Merlin rather than looking forward. "I learned a lot more than you did, I guaran—oof!"

Arthur stops short, feeling something small and soft collide with his chest and then disappear.

"Oh, Lord, I'm so sorry, miss, here, let me help you!" he exclaims, reaching his hand down to the petite woman whom he has just toppled. She had just come around the corner as Arthur reached it, not paying the least bit of attention.

"Ow," she mutters, lifting her arm to inspect her elbow. There's a scrape that will very likely be joined by a bruise by morning. "Thanks," she looks up at the man she ran into, slightly surprised to see a handsome, blonde-haired, blue-eyed man looking down at her, his face a mask of worry and remorse. She puts her purse strap back up on her shoulder, places her small hand in his, and he helps her to her feet. She smoothes her skirt and tries to collect herself while he stammers on.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was walking at all, it's completely my fault," he says, apologies still falling from his lips. "How's your elbow?" he asks, turning his head to look at it, even reaching up with his hand a moment before thinking better of it and dropping it to his side.

She lifts her arm and pokes at it and then carefully picks a small piece of gravel out from where it stuck in her skin. Arthur digs into his pocket for a handkerchief, his head down, when he feels someone shove his chest.

"Get away from my sister, cracka! What the hell do you think you're doin'?"

"Elyan!" Gwen yells, pulling him away from Arthur. "It was an accident! He hasn't done anything except apologize!" She pokes her brother hard on the shoulder.

Elyan glowers at Arthur, and Gwen puts her hands on her hips. "And that is no way to talk to a fellow human being, Elyan Thomas! Weren't you listening in there? Didn't any of his words get into your hard head?"

"Hey, I saw him knock you down!" Elyan defends himself, but he knows he's going to lose this battle. "Then he leaned over you, and…"

"He was helpin' me up, fool," she says, reaching out and snatching the proffered handkerchief, which has been dangling from the end of Arthur's frozen hand as he stands there staring at the arguing siblings. "Thank you," she says softly to Arthur, pressing the cloth to her elbow, dabbing the little spots of blood that have risen to the surface. She hisses, sucking air in between her teeth.

"I'm really sorry. I should know better than to not look where I'm walking."

Gwen smiles at him. "It was an accident. I think I'll live, but I'm not sure about my brother." She narrows her eyes at Elyan again, who has the decency to look apprehensive as his sister glowers at him.

"Go easy on him. He's just lookin' out for you. You're lucky to have a brother who loves you," Arthur says.

"Yeah, real lucky," Gwen rolls her eyes.

Elyan steps up again, peering at Merlin now. "Hey, do I know you?"

"Well, you don't look familiar, but…" Merlin thinks, scratching his head.

"We all look alike to you, is that it?" Elyan starts, his tone accusatory again. Gwen gives him a _look._

"No! I have a terrible memory for anything except music," Merlin admits.

"Yeah, I'm his best friend and he forgets my name about every third day," Arthur pipes up.

"Music… you play piano at Gwaine's, don't you?" Elyan asks, snapping his fingers as he thinks.

"Yeah."

"You're really good. Gwaine's is a great place, but I keep wonderin' how long they'll let him stay open. You know, because he lets in coloreds."

"That's why I keep working there. He pays lousy, but he's not a bigot," Merlin says.

"I like your accent. Where are you from?" Gwen asks Merlin, handing Arthur his handkerchief back.

"Keep it, I've got plenty," Arthur says. "Or throw it away. I don't think that blood will come out anyway."

"Ireland," Merlin says. "Been here about a year."

"Welcome," Gwen says, smiling at him. "Well, thank you for your help," she says to Arthur, looking down at the cloth in her hand, absently rubbing the fabric between her thumb and index finger. She notices that the material is soft and fine, and that the little _AP_ monogram in the corner is professionally done, not hand-stitched like hers is. _So he has a bit of money. But he's kind…_

"Least I could do, since I knocked you over," Arthur says, smiling apologetically.

"Have a good day, and thanks again," she says, and starts walking, her brother following.

"Wait," Arthur calls, stepping towards them. "What's your name?"

"What's yours?" she asks, turning around and looking at him, hands on hips again.

"Arthur," he says, "and this is Merlin." He holds his hand out.

"I'm Guinevere," she says, stepping slowly over and clasping his hand. "But most people call me—"

"Gwen!" Elyan calls, several yards away now, looking very impatient. "Come on! Dad's waitin'!"

"And my brother Elyan," she sighs. "He does mean well, just…"

"I understand, don't worry about it," Arthur smirks. "It was nice to meet you, Guinevere." He releases her hand gently.

"Nice to meet you, too, Arthur," she smiles back at him, a twinkle in her eye that Merlin puzzles at.

"Enjoy your evening," Arthur grins and tips an imaginary cap to her and saunters in the direction of Merlin's car, Merlin himself jogging to catch him up.

"What was that?" Merlin asks.

"She was really nice," Arthur says casually.

"And?" Merlin prompts.

"Very pretty, too."

"Dangerous, Arthur."

"I can't say a colored girl is pretty? Is that against the law?"

"No, but you didn't answer my question. What was that?"

"What was _what?_"

"That look that passed between you. You looked like you were sharing a secret about something."

"Oh. I maybe slipped her my card when she shook my hand," he admits.

"Arthur…"

"She might need legal assistance one day."

"If you expect me to believe that your only motive for slipping her your business card is professional, then…"

"She was pretty, wasn't she? And nice. Smart, too," Arthur says, grinning again.

"Wonder why she didn't say anything about the card…" Merlin muses, unlocking his car door.

Arthur just smiles.

xXx

Walking in the opposite direction, Gwen peeks at the card Arthur had palmed her. _Pendragon Law Offices_ is across the top in block lettering. Then, below, _Arthur Pendragon, Attorney at Law._ Below that is an address and phone number. She slips it into her purse with his handkerchief, deciding that Elyan doesn't need to know.

She turns to her brother now. "What in tar nation is your problem, anyway?"

"Huh?" Elyan looks at her, affronted.

"You were very rude to them, and they were only trying to help me."

"I don't trust 'em," he mutters.

"Arthur and Merlin specifically, or all white people?" she snaps at him.

Elyan says nothing.

"You, yourself _just_ said in there that you hoped that important people were listening to Dr. King's words. Sounds to me like you were too busy hoping that the rich white folks were listening to bother listening yourself," she scolds.

"I listened," he protests.

"But you didn't take it to heart. He was talking about treatin' _everyone_ with fairness and kindness, not just colored folks. Equality for all races. Did you hear him once say, 'Don't trust whitey, he's only out to take your money and rape your womenfolk?' No," she presses on, not giving him a chance to answer, "you did not. Arthur and Merlin seemed to me like nice, trustworthy young men. You even said you recognized Merlin."

"I _recognized_ him; doesn't mean I _know_ him."

"Well you can't know someone until you give them a chance."

"I'm not sure about the other one. That blond Mr. Charlie seemed like a spoiled rich white boy if I ever seen one."

"Saw one," she automatically corrects him. "And so what if he does have money? He came out to hear the speech just like you and me, which tells me something about him, even if you don't see it."

"What's that?"

"He's trying. He doesn't agree with the way things are. He wants things to be different, too."

They walk quietly for a bit.

"You know I ain't got no love for white folks, and even more so after what happened with Mama."

"I know. But her dyin' wasn't the doctor's fault. She had the cancer, Elyan. Yes, the doctor was a bit—"

"He was a jive-ass honky racist turkey," Elyan provides.

"I was going to say 'condescending,' but I suppose that'll do," she chuckles.

"Gwen, you don't see what I see when I'm out on jobs," Elyan says, stopping now to turn and look at her. "I go to some big house to put in new kitchen cabinets or repair a bookcase, and I see them rich white folks with they pretty lil' colored maids, and most of the time, Mister is either – what was that word you used? Condescending. Or downright mean. Or worse, tryin' to get more than the girl is gettin' paid for."

"Every time?" she asks.

"Not every time, no," he admits. "But enough to make me fret a bit when a pretty white boy is nice to us. And he sho'nuff had money, I could tell by the way he was dressed. I could see my face in his shoes!"

"Elyan, thank you for being concerned, but I can take care of myself. I'm sorry that you have to see what you've seen, but I still say that you can't judge every white man based on the actions of a few white men. That's just as unfair as what they do to us and you know it."

Elyan scowls and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Don't let your grief paint every picture black, baby brother," she says, nudging him with her elbow. "Mama died five years ago. Things have changed some since then. Still got far to go, but it's gettin' better. And if she knew how you were behavin' now, she'd sure enough come down here and tan your hide but good!"

"Prob'ly," Elyan says, laughing a little now. "'Sides, it's not likely we'll be seeing those two boys again anyway, right?"

"Right," Gwen says, her mind drifting to the card in her purse and the handkerchief she has vowed to clean back to sparkling white. It also drifts, unbidden, to the peculiar wobble her stomach did when Arthur said her name.

_It was nice to meet you, Guinevere._


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks later.

"_…When the Star-Belly Sneetches had frankfurter roasts Or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts, They never invited the Plain-Belly Sneetches. They left them out cold, in the dark of the beaches._"

"Miss Thompson?" a voice interrupts Gwen's class. School started two weeks ago, and Gwen is seated on a colorful rug on the floor with twenty-two five-year-olds, reading Dr. Seuss.

Gwen looks up to see one of the classroom aides standing in the doorway. "You have a phone call in the office," she says.

"Now?" Gwen says, standing.

"They said it was an emergency. I'll stay here with them," she offers. Gwen hands her the book.

"This your book?" the aide asks softly.

"Yeah, I bought it myself, so make sure it don't get sticky," she says. "Children, be good for Mrs. Arnold. I'll be back soon." They nod and watch her walk out the door.

_Emergency?_ she thinks, walking quickly through the halls. _I hope Elyan's not in trouble…_

"Gwen, there you are!" the school secretary says, thrusting the phone at her.

"Yes, here I am," she says, taking the phone. "Hello?"

"Guinevere Thompson?" an unfamiliar Yankee male voice says in her ear.

"This is she," she answers.

"My name is Percy Andersen. I work with your father," he says, and the tone of his voice makes Gwen's heart stop beating.

"Yes?" she whispers.

"There's been an accident, miss. I'm… I'm sorry… but Tom…"

"What happened?" she asks, grabbing the edge of the desk. The secretary pushes a chair over for her and she sits without realizing it.

"Forklift accident," he manages. "I… I don't know all the details; I'm still investigating… I'm the… warehouse manager…" he stammers, trying to string his thoughts together.

"Forklift accident?" she repeats.

"He… he was… oh, Lord, I don't want to have to tell you this… he was crushed against a wall, and…"

"Stop," Gwen says. "I can't hear any more." She dabs her eyes with a tissue she doesn't know how she got in her hand.

"They're taking him to the hospital, but…"

"But he's already gone, ain't he?" Gwen asks, her voice a whisper.

"Yes, miss. I'm… I'm really sorry. Tom was a good worker and a good man."

"Thank you," Gwen says. _Was._

"Mr. Andersen?"

"Percy," he corrects her.

"Percy. Did… did he suffer? Was he in pain?"

"I don't think so, miss. It was… pretty fast…"

Gwen lets out a shuddery sigh. "Which hospital?"

"Baptist Memorial," he answers.

"Right, of course," she answers vaguely.

"Um, Duncan Matthews went with him… you know him?"

"Yes, I'll look for him," she says automatically.

"I'm sorry…" Percy says again, at a loss.

"Thank you." She hangs up on him.

xXx

"Hey, Gwaine, I'm just gonna borrow this snare for a couple hours, alright?" Aaron comes striding into Gwaine's, talking a mile a minute. "What's shakin', Irish?"

"Aaron," Merlin says, looking up from where he is plinking around on the piano, playing with some ideas.

"Just bring it back still workin'," Gwaine drawls lazily from behind the bar.

"Thanks, man."

"What do you need the drum for?" Merlin asks, watching as Aaron attaches a strap to it so he can hang it around his neck.

"Funeral," he says, as if that explains everything.

"Funeral? You need a drum for a funeral?"

"The cat that died was originally from New Orleans. Wanted a jazz funeral."

"Okay… Aaron, I'm not from this country, you're going to have to elaborate," Merlin says.

"We follow the casket to the cemetery, playing music as we go. Slow stuff, dig? Then after, we play more upbeat things, to 'cut the body loose.' It's a celebration, man."

"That is brilliant," Merlin declares. "I love it."

"Right on," Aaron says, noncommittally.

"Aaron?" Merlin asks after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come? I mean, would it be rude?"

"You can't march with a piano, man!"

"Well, give me a… a tambourine, then. I'd really like to come. If it won't be disrespectful, I mean."

"Sure, I guess," Aaron shrugs, passing a tambourine to Merlin. "You okay being the only white boy?"

"Aaron," Merlin sighs, "I'm always the only one of my kind wherever I go. Except at home, with me mum. If it bothered me, I'd never go anywhere."

"Alright, then. Gwaine, catch you later, man."

"Have fun," Gwaine calls.

"Fun?" Merlin asks.

"Oh, we have fun," Aaron says, shoving Merlin out the door. "He's goin' to be with the Lord, what's not to celebrate?"

xXx

The parade of mourners is now dancing back up the street, having laid the body to rest. Aaron, Merlin, and a handful of other musicians are currently playing a rousing rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In," and most of the people are singing along.

Merlin is fascinated by his first jazz funeral. It's a celebration of life, not a morose, mind-numbingly dull affair, and neither is it the heart-wrenchingly painful experience that his father's funeral was a year and a half ago. _If I'd known about this, maybe Da's funeral would have been tolerable._

He looks ahead through the crowd and sees someone that might be familiar. _Is that… no, couldn't be. Could it?_

"Aaron," Merlin sidles over to his friend, talking and playing at once, "you know that girl up there? The short one in dark blue?"

"Yeah, that's Gwen. Her pop is the one we just buried. Why?"

"I think I met her last month…"

_Oh, no. If I'd known that it was someone I knew, I never would have crashed the funeral. Now I feel a right pillock. I'll have to find her and apologize._

"You _think?_"

"Aaron, you know me mind is always a bit jumbled. But yeah, now that I see her and you put the name back in me head, yeah, that's her."

"You meet her brother, too?"

"Yeah," he chuckles. "He wasn't as nice as she was."

"That's Elyan," Aaron nods.

"Where're we goin', anyway?"

"Goin' to they house."

Moments later, they approach a small, two-story house, tidy but modest.

"We're not all going to fit inside," Merlin mutters, his feet stopping as he watches people file in, many stopping to hug Gwen and Elyan or touch their elbows or shoulders consolingly. Some people linger in the front yard, some head to the backyard; some don't stay and head to their own homes.

"Come on, we gonna have a smoke." Aaron grabs Merlin's elbow and pulls him to the backyard.

"I don't smoke," Merlin mumbles, but follows anyway.

Merlin observes the interactions of the mourners. He's surprised to hear much laughter as people reminisce about Gwen's dad, sharing stories. _This is the kind of funeral I want._

He thinks about going inside, but he doesn't feel right, since he wasn't invited.

"Merls, you alright, man?" Aaron asks, noting Merlin's pensive demeanor.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just amazed at the difference between this funeral and the last one I was at. Back home."

"Who's was it?"

"My father's," Merlin says, and something in his demeanor stops Aaron from asking any further questions.

Merlin turns and sees Gwen come out the back door and sit on the steps of the back porch. She looks wrung-out, tired, and hot, waving a paper fan to make a breeze for herself from time to time. _She probably wishes everyone would just go home and leave her alone. I know that's how I felt._ He absently hands the tambourine still hanging from his hand to Aaron and walks over to her.

"Hey," he says quietly.

She looks up, surprised. "Merlin, right?"

"Yeah. Sorry about your da."

"Thanks. What are you doing here?" she asks, then realizes the question might be rude. "Sorry."

"No, it's me who should apologize. I crashed your father's funeral."

Gwen giggles, taking Merlin by surprise.

"Can I sit?"

She nods, and he sits beside her on the step. "It's all right," she says.

"Aaron told me he was going to a jazz funeral, and I had never heard of that before, and…"

"It's all right, Merlin," Gwen says, interrupting him. "I don't mind. You were curious, and that's understandable. Thank you for coming and saying hello."

"Well, once I was sure that I did recognize you, I couldn't just hang out and pretend I'm not here. Thought I'd at least say hi."

"Thank you."

"Was your father ill?"

"No. It was an accident. Don't really feel like talkin' about it, if you don't mind."

"No problem. I know how that feels. Me da died two years ago."

"Is that why you came here?"

"Part of. America's not the only place with problems."

"Ireland has problems, too, I know," Gwen nods. "I'm a teacher," she tells him. "I teach kindergarten, but I still keep up with the news, in case they have questions 'bout things they hear around."

Merlin nods. "Border Campaign. My father got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wasn't even involved."

"You don't need to tell me if you don't want," she whispers. "I'm not sure I want to hear right now, anyway."

"Okay," he says. "It's hard for me to talk about anyway. But the short version is, me mum decided that we should get out of there. Come to America. Land of opportunity, right?"

Gwen chuckles a mirthless laugh.

"All we had left was each other. Packed what we could carry, and left."

"How did you land here, in Memphis?"

"Fortunate coincidences," Merlin says. "We were in New York for a couple months. Paperwork, you know. Medical tests, make sure we weren't bringin' in anything nasty."

"You didn't want to stay in New York?" Gwen asks.

"Nah. Too busy, too crowded. Too dirty. The only jobs Mum would have been able to get would be scrubbing floors or washing clothes, and neither of us wanted that for her. We were released and me ma asked me where we should go. I told her I didn't much care, but if I could pick, I'd pick someplace that was warm." He smiles at her.

Gwen notices for the first time that the peculiar Irishman doesn't seem bothered by the oppressive heat. "And you settled on Memphis?"

"That was the fortunate bit. There was a priest there, you know, doin' the Lord's work? He heard us talking, and told us he had two train tickets to Memphis that were going to go to waste because he could no longer go."

"Right," Gwen nods knowingly.

"I know," Merlin nods. "I mean, he's not supposed to lie, being a priest, but it just seemed a little too convenient. Maybe he thought we wouldn't just _take_ them. And we did offer to pay him for them, but he said no."

"Of course he did."

"Probably walks around with train tickets in his pockets all the time, him," Merlin chuckles. "So we took the tickets, he said a prayer for us, and we came here."

"Did your mama find something better than scrubbin' floors or doin' wash?"

"Yeah. We got a hotel and then… what was that phrase I learned? Oh. We hit the bricks," he grins, and his lopsided smile is the kind that cannot go unanswered.

"Me mum is tenacious. She's also smart, friendly, and can type. She hit six companies until she found one willing to take her on as a secretary."

"Good for her!" Gwen nods approvingly.

"And I work there, too, part-time, as a courier and errand-boy. But really I'm a musician."

"I remember. Piano, right?"

He nods. "So I work a few days at Pendragon Law, and spend the rest of the time at Gwaine's. That's where I was today."

"Pendragon Law?" she asks, quirking her head at him.

"You remember Arthur? The bloke who knocked you over?"

"Of course." She holds up her arm, bending it up, flashing her elbow at him. "All healed, see?"

He grins and nods approvingly. "My mum is his father's personal secretary. He took her on even though he didn't even have a secretary before. Now he can't live without her," Merlin smiles proudly.

"And that's where you met Arthur?" she asks. She had been curious about how these two strange white boys who appeared to be so different from each other had gotten to be friends.

"Yeah. We just got on right away, even though we have almost nothing in common," Merlin chuckles. "He started right in makin' fun of me accent, and all I could do was laugh and laugh…"

"I love your accent."

"Sometimes I try to practice, to try to get rid of it. You know, to blend in more."

"Don't do that, Merlin. That'd be denyin' who you are, turnin' your back on your kin, your heritage. It's who you are, and don't you dare change who you are for anybody."

"Whoa. All right, I won't!" he chuckles, surprised at the passion behind her words. "I was pretty bad at it, anyway. Arthur just laughs harder when I try, and no, I will not give you a demonstration."

She laughs. "I should give you his handkerchief back so you can give it to him. I got the blood out of it," Gwen says.

"He told you to keep it," Merlin says.

"He only just said that 'cause he thought it was ruined," Gwen argues.

"No, he didn't. Arthur may be a rich white boy, but he doesn't say anything he doesn't mean."

Gwen ponders this concept for a moment, still thinking she should run upstairs to her apartment and get the hanky.

"Merls! If you want a ride back to Gwaine's, we's leavin'!"

"Bugger," Merlin curses, looking at his watch. "Didn't realize it was that late. I have to go or I'll be late picking up Mum," he says. "Yeah, just a minute!" he shouts back to Aaron.

"It was nice talking to you, Merlin. Don't feel bad about crashin'; I'm glad you came. Maybe we'll meet again under happier times," Gwen says, standing with him.

"Hope so. Sorry again about your da."

"Thank you."

"Would it be all right if I gave you a hug?" Merlin asks carefully.

She shrugs. "Sure."

He steps down one step so she is more level with him and hugs her, holding her for just a few moments, as proper as if he his hugging his grandmother. "Keep your chin up," he tells her once he's released her.

"Irish!"

"I'm coming, keep your trousers on!"

xXx

Gwen watches the musicians drive away and is about to turn back into the house when she sees a large, young, white man standing hesitantly at the edge of her yard, clutching a hat in his hands.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asks, stepping over.

"Are you Gwen Thompson?" he asks. His northern-accented voice is vaguely familiar.

"Yes," she says carefully. The man is gigantic, six and a half feet tall, and he appears to be carved out of solid muscle. But his face is gentle and open. And sad.

"We spoke on the phone a few days ago, miss. I'm Percy Andersen. I just wanted to come and say I'm sorry in person."

"Oh… thank you," she says. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I'm just on my way home, and…" he turns, hearing voices approaching. "Guys," he nods at about a dozen men, mostly black, a few white, in work clothes, as they approach.

"Mr. Andersen," a few of them say. They stop near him. "See you had the same idea, boss."

Percy nods. "I wanted to come pay my respects, same as you."

"Please, come in, folks. I'm sure there's still some food left."

They file through, coming into the backyard, stopping to hug Gwen or offer their condolences or both before a few of them go up into the back door of the house.

"Elyan inside?" one asks.

"I reckon so," Gwen nods. She notices that Percy is still standing to the side, as if he wasn't finished with their conversation. Two others, Duncan and another man she think is named Ezra, hover nearby as well, talking to each other quietly. They glance at Percy questioningly, and he nods, his face tight.

"Gwen," Duncan steps forward. "We got somethin' on our minds we wanna share with ya." He glances at the other two, and they nod encouragingly.

"Okay," she says, wondering what this is about. The three men step fully into the yard now, even Percy, and they usher Gwen a short distance from the house, away from other ears.

"Gwen, this is Ezra Johnson," Duncan introduces the other man.

"Miss," he nods sadly. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Ezra was…" Duncan starts, glancing at his friend.

"I was the one drivin' the truck," he says softly. "I can't even say…"

"It's all right, Ezra. It was an accident," Gwen says, touching the man's arm as he fights with tears.

"That's what we want to tell you, miss," Percy says quietly. "Your father's death was an accident that could have been prevented. _Should_ have been prevented."

"What?"

"That fool truck was in no shape to be drove," Duncan states, his face clouding. "We tole all the right people. Mr. Andersen here put in the paperwork for the repairs."

Percy nods. "I did. I swear on my grandmother's life that I did."

"We knew it was in no shape to be drove. But we had to drive it 'cause we can't work with one fork truck," Duncan says. "The brakes was bad, the steering was off, the tires was old."

"Could hardly control the thing," Ezra adds quietly, wiping his haunted face.

Gwen is dumbstruck, listening to all this. _What do I do? Can I do anything?_ "What are y'all saying?"

"Gwen, do you know any lawyers?" Percy asks.

Gwen's mind drifts to her nightstand and its top drawer. Tucked inside is a pristine white handkerchief, pressed and folded carefully. Sitting on top of it is a business card.

"Yes, I think I do," she answers quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

"Pendragon Law Offices, this is Vivian, may I help you?" a bright voice answers the phone Monday morning.

Gwen had two days to ponder calling Arthur. Her father's funeral was on Friday, and she couldn't very well call him on Saturday or Sunday. She spent Saturday mostly alone, in her apartment on the second floor of their house, thinking about Percy and Duncan and Ezra and their words. She thought a lot about what her father would want her do to. She prayed about it in church on Sunday, asking for guidance to make the right decision and strength to follow it through.

Now, Monday morning, Gwen finds herself with 45 minutes of prep time while her students are in music class. She chose to call Arthur, not wanting to waste any more time.

"Arthur Pendragon, please," she says.

"May I tell him who is calling?"

"Guinevere Thompson."

"Please hold."

Gwen waits, imagining the receptionist as some perky blonde, pretty, but probably useless for anything beyond answering a telephone.

"Arthur Pendragon." His smooth voice snaps her out of her daydream.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Pendragon, I don't know if you remember me, but…"

"Of course I remember you, Guinevere," he says. "Only I thought your last name was Thomas, not Thompson."

"Beg pardon?"

"When you yelled at your brother," he says, and she can hear him grinning over the phone, "you called him 'Elyan Thomas,' so…"

"Thomas is his middle name," she says.

"Ah. Mystery solved, then. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, um, I'm sorry to say that I'm not calling for pleasurable reasons at all. I would like to hire you, Mr. Pendragon."

"Arthur," he says. "Please call me Arthur. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Not yet," she sighs. "It's… complicated. My father passed away recently, and—"

"Yes, Merlin told me. I am sorry, Guinevere," he says.

"Thank you. Anyway, I'm being told that the accident that caused his death could have been prevented, and…"

"And you want recompense?"

"Yes and no," she says, furrowing her brows, twisting the phone cord around her finger. "I want his former coworkers to be safe. I want to know that the person responsible for ignoring the requests to service the forklift truck knows that we know and we won't sit idly by. I want…"

"You want justice," Arthur says simply.

"Yes. Can you help me?"

"That is what I do," he says, and there's something in his tone, a confidence, almost a smugness, that reassures her, that tells her that Arthur Pendragon is the Man for the Job.

"Guinevere?" he asks when she doesn't say anything.

"Do you practice that in your mirror at home?" she blurts. "Oh, I'm s…"

Arthur's laughter cuts off her apology. "Guilty," he says, "you caught me."

"Sorry," she smiles. "You just sounded a bit like Superman there, is all."

"Been practicing enough, then," he says. "Guinevere, I'd like to meet with you so we can discuss your case. When would you be available?"

"I'm done here at school at 2:45. I can be to your office by 3:15, probably."

"You're in school?"

"I'm a teacher."

"Oh. Right. You just look very youthful, so…"

"I teach kindergarten at Lincoln."

"No confusing you with the students, then."

"So far, so good," she says.

"Oh, what's your father's name? I'd like to do a some research today before you arrive."

"Thomas Thompson."

"Middle name?"

"Ezekiel."

"And where did he work?"

"Alined Paper Corporation. In the warehouse."

"They take him to Baptist Memorial?"

"Yes."

"Got it. 3:15, then. I'll be expecting you," he says.

"Thank you, Arthur," she says, and hangs up the phone. She sits and stares at the shiny black telephone for a minute. _That was either very smart or very stupid, Gwen. Only the Lord knows which right now._

But when she walks back to her classroom, neither her feet nor her heart feel as heavy.

xXx

Arthur stares into space, letting Gwen's voice resonate through his head for a minute. _"Thank you, Arthur."_

He stands, stretches, and heads out of his office, down the corridor, and knocks on his father's door.

_May as well get this over with._

"Come," Uther Pendragon's voice bids him enter.

"Hey, Pop."

"Arthur, what can I do for you?" he asks, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. His voice is clipped and businesslike, but friendly enough; his years in Tennessee having done little to erase the hint of Boston in his accent.

"I have a case."

"Do you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at his son.

"Yes, Pop, I do. I'm tired of being relegated to just traffic violations, and I just got a call from someone – someone who specifically requested _me_ – and I want to take her case.

"_Her_ case? I see now," he smirks.

"Pop, it's not like that. Her father was killed in an accident, and she has reason to believe that it could have been prevented. Wrongful death case."

"_Young_ lady?"  
"Pop, you know I'm not like that. Besides, she's colored," Arthur sighs, knowing that while it doesn't make a difference to him, it will to other people.

"This is more than you can handle," Uther says tersely.

"How do you know unless you let me try?" Arthur says, raising his voice some. "All I've done since I graduated in May are traffic violations! Oh, and the one _very_ exciting will." He rolls his eyes and continues. "I'd like to do something to help someone, _really_ help them. Even if it's just once. Even if I lose. I'm tired of being a walking encyclopedia of traffic laws."

"What kind of accident?" Uther asks, leaning forward in his chair to rest his chin on his steepled fingers.

"Um, a work accident, I reckon. She mentioned somethin' about wanting his former coworkers to be safe."

"Where did he work?"

"Alined Paper."

Uther inhales through his teeth. "That's a big company, Arthur. Eugene Alined has deep pockets and is going to have high-powered help. Aggy Boudreaux is his personal attorney, if I'm not mistaken."

"Agravaine Boudreaux doesn't scare me. The man is an idiot, led around by his wallet and his pecker."

Uther barks a surprised laugh. "I see you've been doing your homework."

"So can I do this?"

"You're going to do it even if I say no, Arthur. I know you."

"I'd feel better about it if you were behind me. And don't start in about that it's going to be hard because she's a colored girl going up against a powerful white man. I know this already. And don't tell me to refer her to Abe Jameson. He's got his hands plenty full with Civil Rights cases right now, anyway. _I_ want this case."

Uther sighs. "Very well. Just… be careful. You are young and idealistic and you were educated up north. People around here, people in power, don't think the way you think."

"You do. Mostly."

"Well, I'm not from here. You know that."

"You've been successful here."

"That's because I know how to play the game. You haven't fully learned yet. Arthur," he sighs, "I have been a lawyer for thirty years. I've seen all manner of crime and wrongdoing during that time. I've seen enough to know that the actions of a human being are not driven by the color of his skin. In fact, some of the most horrific things I've seen done during my life have been perpetrated by white people, and often it's white people thinking that they are better than everyone else. Hitler. Stalin. Mussolini. Those twisted bastards in the Klan. Not to mention the ones that are just sick, like Ed Gein or Charles Starkweather. So, no, I do not have a problem with you defending this little black girl…"

"Father," Arthur interrupts, "she's not a little girl, she's a grown woman with a good job and everything."

"Oh? What does she do?"

"She's a teacher. Teaches kindergarten at Lincoln Elementary."

"I see. She's educated. That will help. But as I was saying, just because _I_ do not have a problem with your taking this case doesn't mean that you will not meet with opposition from others. I've been around here long enough to know that you should not underestimate Boudreaux. He's an idiot, yes, but he's also a snake in the grass who would sell his own granny to the highest bidder if he could make a couple dollars."

"I know. And thanks, Pop."

"Do me proud."

"I'll try. I will," he amends. "Merlin in today?"

"Ask Hunith. I never know where that boy is," Uther says, picking up his pen and waving it in the direction of his secretary beyond the door.

"Will do. Need him to fetch copies of some reports for me, you know," he says, nodding at his father.

"When is your client coming?"

"3:15."

"Good luck," he calls as Arthur leaves.

Arthur strolls over to Hunith's desk a few feet away and leans against the side of it next to her.

"Merlin will be here in fifteen minutes," she says, answering his question before he even asks it.

"How do you do that?"

"I'm a leprechaun," she says, finally looking up at him. "Duckling, you're always looking for Merlin. It wasn't difficult to guess."

"Well, when you see him, I have an errand for him. Please."

"Of course, I'll send him over."

"Thanks, darlin'," he says.

xXx

Gwen steps through the doors to Pendragon Law Offices at 3:12 p.m. Her palms are sweating, and she knows it's not because of the humidity.

"May I help you?" It's the perky blonde from the phone. Gwen's lips twitch a moment, biting back her smirk when she sees that her mental image of Vivian was quite accurate.

"Yes, hello, I'm Guinevere Thompson. I have an appointment with Arthur Pendragon." She steps forward.

"Oh! Oh, yes, I'll just let him know," she says, slightly flustered. She quickly picks up the phone. "Mr. Pendragon? Your 3:15 is here."

"What? No, I haven't seen him – oh, he's just coming back in now."

"Gwen!" Merlin exclaims, seeing her in the lobby.

"Yes, sir." Vivian hangs up and looks at Merlin. "Merlin, young Mr. Pendragon has asked that you escort Miss… Thompson? back to his office." She puzzles at them, wondering how Merlin seems to know this girl so well.

"I can do that," Merlin nods, shifting the parcel in his hands to offer Gwen his elbow. "My lady?"

Gwen looks sideways at him, clearly wanting to ask him if he's lost his damn mind. Merlin nudges her with his offered elbow. "Come on. Let's go see Arthur."

Gwen sighs and takes his arm, ignoring the incredulous look Vivian is giving them as they walk past her and through another set of doors.

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asks her quietly, not wishing to disturb anyone.

"I've hired Arthur," she says. "My father's death…"

"Was he killed?" Merlin gasps.

"Not… intentionally. But I now have reason to believe that it could have been prevented."

"Ah, _that's_ what this," he indicates the large, thick envelope in his other hand, "must be about."

They reach a door and Merlin opens it without knocking.

"Guinevere, nice to see you again," Arthur stands immediately, reaching his hand out to shake hers. "Merlin, nice to see that you've learned how to knock." He smirks at his friend, who merely shrugs.

His hand is large and warm, squeezing hers gently but not too hard. Her hand feels soft and delicate within his, like a tame bird.

"I only wish it were under better circumstances," she says, smiling sadly.

"Please, sit," Arthur indicates a chair and holds his hand out for the package from Merlin. "Thank you, Merlin. Excellent timing," he says, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I thought so," Merlin replies. Arthur's phone rings.

"Excuse me," he says, going to his phone and lifting the handset. "Yes? He just got back. All right, I'll send him."

He hangs up and looks at Merlin. "Pop needs you."

Merlin frowns. He'd been hoping he could stick around and hear about Gwen's case. "Shouldn't keep him waiting, I guess," he sighs, heading out the door, closing it behind him.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Arthur asks, sitting behind his desk. "Coffee, tea, water, lemonade?"

"No, thank you," Gwen says, clutching her purse in her lap.

"Are you nervous?" he asks, leaning forward slightly.

"Yes. This is all new to me. Plus I don't know what I'm gettin' myself into."

"Me neither," Arthur admits, smiling at her. She can't tell if he's kidding or if he's being honest.

"You pullin' my leg?"

"Um, not really. To be honest, this will be my first case that doesn't involve a traffic ticket."

"How long you been practicin' law, Mr. Pendragon?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Arthur," he reminds her. "Almost four whole months," he says, pointing to his diploma on the wall, dated May 1963. "So if you want to fire me, now's your chance."

"What? No, I… no. I don't want to fire you," she says, realizing that she wants Arthur on this case. _There is something about him that I find comforting. Reassuring. Like he'll… protect me._

"Good, 'cause I'd've hated to have had to go back to my dad and tell him I lost you after I had to convince him to let me have you in the first place," he says, then his eyes widen when her realizes how that might sound. "I mean, your case… o' course…"

Gwen presses her lips together to keep from laughing at him, but suddenly she feels more relaxed. "What is all that?" she nods to the packet from Merlin.

"Ah, I did my homework today, Teacher," he says, opening the envelope and sliding out a stack of paper. "Hospital reports," he waves them at her. "I've also got information about your father, you, and Elyan." He holds up three sheets of paper in turn with each name.

"What kind of information? Where'd you get all that?"

"It's public record, Guinevere. These," he motions to the personal reports, "I got from the Motor Vehicle Department. Nothing in here that ain't on your driver's license. Glad you have one, by the way."

"Oh." _So he knows my weight,_ she finds herself thinking, and wonders why she cares.

"Still waiting on work records. I don't reckon Alined is going to make this very easy for us, I'm afraid."

"I can't say as I'm surprised," Gwen says.

Arthur peruses some of the papers. "Your mother has already passed away, I see," he says quietly, flipping through the papers.

"Yes, five years ago."

"My mama died ten years ago," he says.

"Cancer," Gwen says.

"Heart attack. Didn't even know her heart was bad."

They ponder one another a moment, then Arthur clears his throat and shuffles through his papers again.

"I brought a few names for you," Gwen says, redirecting the conversation.

"Oh?"

Gwen pulls a slip of paper out of her purse and hands it to him.

"Percy Andersen, Duncan Matthews, and Ezra Johnson," Arthur reads.

"Percy Andersen is the warehouse manager. He was my father's boss. Duncan was Daddy's friend. He went with his… body… to the hospital. And Ezra was the man driving the forklift that…"

"I see," Arthur nods, flipping to the hospital report, his sharp blue eyes scanning the report quickly. Gwen watches as he tries not to wince at what he reads.

"Is it that bad?" she asks.

"You don't know?"

"I didn't want all the details. I wasn't ready to hear them. I don't know if I ever will be."

"Guinevere, you likely will not have a choice but to hear them if we pursue this case. Probably more than once."

"Okay," she nods.

Arthur sighs. "Are all these men colored?" he asks.

"Mr. Andersen – Percy – is white. Looks like he stepped off an Army Recruitment poster."

"He's willing to help us out?"

"I reckon he is. He came out to Daddy's funeral with the others from the warehouse to pay his respects. And that's when they told me about the repair requests."

"Repair requests?" Arthur starts making notes in a notebook now.

She nods, going on to detail what the three men told her that day.

"I need to talk to Percy Andersen," Arthur mutters, circling Percy's name. "I hope he has copies of those requests."

"I put the warehouse office number there for you," she points to the paper she gave him.

"Thank you, that's very helpful."

Arthur turns his attention back to the personal forms, tucking the hospital report away, not wanting to look at it any more.

"Interesting," he says.

"What is it?" asks Gwen.

"I guess I didn't realize that you were older than your brother," he says.

"Yes, I'm older by almost exactly one year. Our birthdays are within days of each other, in fact."

"Did your parents make you share parties?" he asks, setting the paper down, interested.

"Well, they didn't _make_ us do anything," she says. "It was just what we did." _Why does he care?_

Arthur nods, trying to understand.

"You see, you can't miss what you never had. For years, all we knew was one cake with two names," she presses on.

"Oh," Arthur answers dumbly.

"It doesn't bother me at all," she goes on. "The way I see it, Mama was being smart. When you're tryin' to make a dollar out of fifteen cents, you don't make two cakes when your children's birthdays are four days apart."

"What about blowing out your candles?" Arthur asks.

"Ah," Gwen says, smiling, "we did do that right."

"How so?"

"Well, we would do it twice. El would go first; we would sing 'Happy Birthday' to him and he would blow out the candles, and then Mama would put one more candle on the cake, light them all again, and then they would sing 'Happy Birthday' to me and I would get my turn to blow them out."

Arthur smiles, picturing it in his head. "That's a long way to stretch," he says after a moment.

"What is?"

"Fifteen cents into a dollar."

"I don't expect you to understand," she says quietly.

"I'm trying," he says.

"I guess that's what's important."

"I'm glad you called me, Guinevere," he says. "I really think we have a strong case against Alined. Especially if Percy Andersen is willing to be a man and stand up for what is right."

"I think he may be. Daddy always spoke highly of him, even though he's young and just showed up one day. Alined brought him in and told them that Percy was their boss now, and that was it."

"Is Percy Andersen related to Eugene Alined?" Arthur asks, narrowing his eyes shrewdly.

"Don't know. Could be. It'd sure make sense, but I hope not. He might not be willing to fight his own kin."

"That's what I was thinking," Arthur scowls.

"On the other hand, why would he tell me what he did if he wasn't?" she muses.

"I'll find out," he promises.

"Um, Arthur?" Gwen says suddenly. "Is there a way we can work on this without taking these men away from their jobs? I mean, I don't want them to have to take time off and maybe lose money over this."

"I understand. I'll meet with them in the evenings if I have to. That's not a problem."

"I hate to ask you to take your personal time…"

"I don't have much of a social life," he shrugs. "I mainly hang around with Merlin, and he plays at Gwaine's most nights anyway."

"Do you go see him play?"

"Sometimes. You should… you should come see him sometime. He's really good."

"I might."

"Yeah, so if I'm not over there, I'm at home, usually doing somethin' work-related anyway."

"No… no girlfriend?" she asks, then immediately wishes she hadn't. _Why did you ask that, Gwen? His love life is none of your damn business!_

He smiles, seeing her flush slightly. "No girlfriend. Been too busy focusin' on my career. So don't you worry about takin' up my personal time."

"Thank you," she says. "And, um…"

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure how I'm gonna be able to pay you. I've got a good job and Daddy had _some_ money squirreled away, but…"

"Guinevere," Arthur says, holding his hands up. "We don't need to worry about that now. But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell you what: if I can't win this case for you, you don't have to pay me."

"But…"

"It's only fair, Guinevere. You came to me for help. I'm gonna try and help you. But if I fail, I shouldn't get paid."

"Thank you," she whispers, looking at her hands.

_Even if you win, I probably won't charge you very much,_ he thinks, but says nothing. "What does Elyan think of this?"

"I… haven't told him yet," Gwen admits.

"Ah," Arthur says. "He'll be all right with it, you think?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she says. "He's always goin' on about takin' on 'The Man,' you know."

"O' course he is," Arthur chuckles. "However, I think his involvement in this case should be limited to… a supporting role. He may be too…"

"Volatile?" Gwen supplies, smirking.

"Right. We'll keep you in the forefront, use your pretty face to gain sympathy. Sorry if this all sounds callous," he apologizes.

"A little, but I… I think I understand," she says. _My pretty face?_

"Good," he smiles. "Plus you're educated and well-spoken. That will help, too. Guinevere, this is going to be hard. But I think we can win. If the Lord is with us and I get all the pieces in place where I want them, I think we can do something to make things safer for your father's friends. And put Eugene Alined in his place as well."

"Thank you, Arthur. You don't know what this means to me," she says, her eyes misting slightly. She opens her purse to pull out her handkerchief and sees his there as well. _I forgot I brought it._

Gwen dabs her eyes with her own handkerchief, then takes Arthur's out and sets it on the desk.

"What's this?"

"Your handkerchief. I got the blood out."

"That's yours," he says, pushing it back over towards her. "I gave it to you."

"Arthur, what am I going to do with a hanky that has someone else's initials on it?"

He just smiles. "Wipe your nose, I guess," he says with a shrug.

"Arthur…"

"I know I'm being ridiculous, but I gave it to you and so that means it's yours."

"You are ridiculous," she says, but she snatches the cloth off the desk and stuffs it back into her purse anyway.

"My pop gets me a box of those things every year for Christmas. I have so many of them that I have half a mind to… get them all stitched together and use 'em as a bedsheet."

Gwen laughs now, covering her mouth with her hand.

"There now, that's a good sound." He looks at his watch. "But I should let you go home," he says, reaching for a few more papers he has on his desk.

_Did he sound sad that I'm leaving? Do I feel sad to be leaving?_

"I just need your autograph in a few places, and I'll start doing some digging. And I'll need your phone number. So I can contact you about the case," he says. _Of course she knows it's so you can contact her about the case, dummy. Why else would you need her phone number?_

Arthur slides the forms across the desk to her and holds out a pen for her. As she takes the pen, her fingers brush his for a split second.

_Why does my stomach feel like that every time I touch his hand?_ "Um, where?" she asks, pen poised over the page, her eyes quickly scanning the document.

He points, and she signs. He flips to the next page, points, and she signs. He slides his notebook over to her and she writes her phone number on it. He takes the pen back and writes "Guinevere" beside it.

"Most people call me Gwen," she says, noticing he's been calling her by her full name the entire time she's been there.

"I remember," he says. "You told me that when we met the first time."

She peers at him. "But you're going to keep calling me 'Guinevere,' aren't you?"

"I like it better."

xXx

"Gwen, where have you been, girl?" Elyan asks when she walks up the steps to the front porch. Elyan is sitting in a rocker, a glass of water in his hand.

"You out of sweet tea?" she asks, looking at his glass as she walks past him.

"Yeah. Make me some more?" He stands and follows her into the house.

"You can make your own. I showed you how."

"It's still better when you do it."

"Lazy. Right now all I wanna do is go up to my apartment and collapse onto my bed. But since I do need to talk to you, I'll stay down here with you and make your tea."

"You gon' tell me where you was?"

"That's what I need to talk to you about." She drops her purse on the kitchen table and takes her shoes off, setting them near the door.

"We're suin' Mr. Alined," she tells him, facing the sink.

"We's doin' what?"

"We are suing Eugene Alined." She turns around and faces him. "Daddy's death was a preventable accident. I was just havin' a meeting with Arthur Pendragon. Remember those boys from after Dr. King's speech? Blonde Mr. Charlie is a lawyer."

"You didn't think you should tell me before you runned off to discuss this with your pretty white boy?"

"I think you just answered your own question, El," she snaps, turning back to the coffeemaker, dropping teabags into the receptacle where the coffee filter and ground coffee should go.

"What?"

"You don't trust him. That's why I didn't tell you."

"You could have gone to the colored lawyer. Jameson."

"I could have, but I didn't. I called Arthur."

"How did you know he was a lawyer?"

"Merlin told me. You know, the other one? He was at Daddy's funeral."

"How'd you get his number?"

"Phone book!" she shoots back, getting flustered at Elyan's inquisition.

"And you knew his last name and all?"

Gwen sighs and closes her eyes. "Fine. Arthur gave me his business card when he shook my hand."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, Elyan! But I'm glad he did. And he's already working on the case, and I've already signed the paperwork."

"I thought you say 'we' was suin' Mr. Alined."

"Fine. _I_ am suin' Mr. Alined. You are involved because you're my brother, though. You been done wrong by this, too," she reminds him.

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I don't walk around down here with all o' his stuff and not feel the stab o' him bein' gone? You can at least go upstairs to your own place!"

"Sorry, El." She sits while the tea brews, pulling his hand in between hers. "Look. This is us going up against The Man, don't you see that? I got help. Even the warehouse manager is with us on this."

"Was he that huge white boy you was talkin' to with Duncan and Ezra?"

"Yes." Gwen nods and squeezes his hand, and proceeds to tell him everything they told her Friday evening.

"So that's it. You gonna get us killed. No judge is gon' care about the death of some colored man in a warehouse," Elyan says. "Whitey thinks we's all just so much trash. One dies, so what? Just get another'n."

"If that's your attitude, maybe I don't want you to be involved," Gwen says. "Arthur seems to think that we have a very strong case against Mr. Alined."

"Oh, _Arthur_ thinks," Elyan rolls his eyes.

The coffeemaker gurgles, signaling its completion, and Gwen stands, shoving her chair back into the table roughly. "I am disappointed in you, Elyan," she says over her shoulder. "You want rights, but you're not willing to go out and ask for 'em. That warehouse ain't _safe._ For anyone. I thought about this all weekend. Prayed about it Sunday. Think about what Daddy would want, Elyan, what he would do. And Mama, too. She always told us to hold our heads up high and proud, even if we was wearin' secondhand clothes and your belt was a bit o' rope. Don't let nobody take advantage of you. Try to do what's right. I think this is what's right. If you don't want no part of this, tell me now, and I won't trouble you with any o' the details."

Gwen is pouring sugar into the pitcher, stirring, yelling at Elyan by yelling at the sweet tea in front of her.

"Gwen…"

She slams the wooden spoon down on the counter. "I ain't finished yet, Elyan. If you don't want to help, then don't, but don't try and stop me and don't get in my way." She turns around and looks at him. "But if you want to do right by Daddy, if you want to poke The Man a little, let him know we's payin' attention, then help me with this."

"Your pretty way o' talkin' gets less pretty when you's mad," Elyan smirks at her.

"Shut up," she says, trying not to smile back.

"Mama and Daddy done raised you better than they did me," Elyan sighs. "You're right. It's time for me to be the man o' the family and do the right thing, even if we don't win…"

"Then we can hold our heads high knowin' we tried." Gwen turns back to the sink to take the pitcher and put it in the fridge.

"I'm sorry, Gwen."

"Elyan, Mama and Daddy didn't raise me better than you. I just paid closer attention," she says, going over and hugging him.

xXx

_I'm walking in the mountains, the world lush and green around me. Appalachia. Dew drops on the kudzu. A slight mist in the air as the heat of the sun evaporates the morning moisture._

_ I walk, and the path narrows, gradually disappearing, and I'm falling, sliding down the hill, my fingers grasping at branches and vines and rocks, unable to find purchase on anything. _

_ Suddenly a large, strong, warm hand clasps mine, stopping my descent. The hand pulls me up, setting me on solid ground again. I look at the hand holding mine. It is pale, peachy-gold, long-fingered and broad. My eyes follow his arm upward to a wide shoulder, then to a muscular neck attached to a strong jaw._

_ I know whose face I am going to see, but still I gasp._

_ Unusually full lips, dark dusty pink, and a straight nose lead to a pair of eyes, curiously tender, blue streaked with gray, all beneath a crown of golden hair._

_ "Didn't I tell you that this is what I do?"_

Gwen's eyes fly open and she sits up in bed. She looks at her alarm clock. 2:15. Clutching her sheets to her chest, she blinks in the darkness.

"All right, Lord, if that wasn't a sign, I don't know what one is."


	4. Chapter 4

"Andersen," Percy picks up his phone Tuesday morning, stretching his left leg out in front of him, rubbing his knee a moment before bending forward and yanking his pant leg up to adjust his prosthesis. _Didn't get it quite right this morning,_ he thinks, replacing his pant leg over the false lower leg and foot.

"Mr. Andersen? My name is Arthur Pendragon. Do you have a moment?"

"Um, sure…" he says, puzzling for a moment. "Pendragon? Like Pendragon Law Offices?"

"Well, that Pendragon is my father, but yes."

"Ah. If you're calling why I think you're calling, I don't want to talk on this line. Can I call you on my lunch hour? I'll go to a pay phone and call you."

"I am, and of course," Arthur says, smiling. _He's going to cooperate._ He gives Percy the number and resolves to eat his own lunch in his office so he doesn't miss the call.

Arthur hangs up the phone, sighs, and lifts it again. "Vivian, when is Merlin in today?"

"He should be here in half an hour, Mr. Pendragon," she says.

"Send him right to me as soon as you see him, please."

"Yes, sir."

In his office, Percy sits and stares another moment. _She called Pendragon. Not Jameson. Interesting._ Percy had been in this half of the country long enough to be surprised that a colored person would call a white lawyer. _Gwen appeared to be a smart girl. I'm sure she had a good reason to choose this man._

He stands and walks to his filing cabinet, opening the top drawer. Far in the back is a file folder. He pulls it out and thumbs through the copies of the repair requests. _Thank you, Captain Lee,_ he thinks, remembering his Captain's motto. CYA: Cover Your Ass.

"Boss?" a voice interrupts his thoughts. Percy looks up and sees Duncan's face peeking into his doorway.

"Duncan, what can I do for you?" he asks, casually closing the file drawer and setting the folder on his desk.

"New shipment just arrived. Need your signature," Duncan says.

"Right," Percy looks at the folder on his desk, picks it up again, and stashes it in his bottom desk drawer.

Duncan looks on curiously, wondering what is so secretive that he can't leave it sitting in the open but not so secretive that Percy allows him to see where he's hidden it.

Percy smirks slightly, and as he walks unevenly down the stairs from his office above the warehouse, he mutters to Duncan, "Copies of the repair requests."

"You got copies? How'd you get copies?"

"I made them before I submitted them."

"Damn, boss, you smart," Duncan says, looking up at the young man, his mouth agape.

"Not smart. Careful."

"Someone call you?"

"Yes. I'm going to the payphone on the corner at lunch to talk to him. I'd ask you and Ezra to come along, but that might look suspicious."

"Right."

"I do have his phone number. I'll make sure a copy finds its way into your hands."

"Thanks, boss."

"I think Tom's daughter may be even smarter than we thought."

"She wa'n't the apple of his eye for nothin'," Duncan says.

"Shh," Percy says as they walk onto the main floor of the warehouse, among the rest of the workers.

A few hours later, Percy is out in the midday heat, crammed into a phone booth that is clearly built for someone who is not six-foot-five and 235 pounds of solid muscle. He drops a dime into the slot and dials the number.

"Pendragon Law Offices, this is Vivian, may I help you?"

"Hello, Arthur Pendragon, please," Percy says, leaning on the side of the glass booth.

"One moment."

He waits his moment, and soon Arthur's voice greets him. "Arthur Pendragon."

"Mr. Pendragon, this is Percy Andersen. We spoke briefly this morning."

"Please, call me Arthur. Thank you for calling me back."

"Thank you for understanding my not wanting to talk in my office this morning."

"Not a problem at all. So then you know what this is about?"

"Tom Thompson."

"Right. Guinevere tells me that you and two others have some information that might help make things safer for your workers?"

"Well, I have some information that might help expose the fact that the current working conditions in the warehouse are unsafe… deadly, I'd say."

"So would I," Arthur says. "Mr. Andersen, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Percy. And yes, you can."

"Are you related to Eugene Alined?"

Percy sighs, and when Arthur hears it, he has his answer. "Yes. He's my uncle. No one here knows, though, and I prefer it that way."

"Because you don't want them to know that your uncle gave you the job because you are his nephew?"

"Because my uncle is a slimeball and I'm ashamed to be related to him. And what you said, too."

"Why did you take the job, then?"

"I needed a job. I'm… I'm a disabled Army vet, Arthur. Lost part of my leg in 'Nam. Went home to Sioux Falls and no one would hire me. My mom talked to her older brother, even though she hates him, and he agreed to hire me. I need to work, so I took it."

"So you have no problem with helping Guinevere with her case against your uncle?"

"None," Percy says decisively, so much so that Arthur wonders what Alined did that makes Percy hate him so much.

_Not the time for that question._ "So… this information you have for me. Is it concrete?"

"If copies of repair requests for various pieces of equipment around the warehouse that have gone un-fulfilled is what you'd call _concrete,_ then, yes."

Arthur almost drops the phone. "You have copies?"

"Dated and signed."

"Percy, I think you just became my star witness."

The two men arrange a meeting time, and Percy tells him about Duncan and Ezra. "I'll give them your number. They'll call you."

"Let me give you my home number. I don't suppose you have somethin' to write with?"

"No, but I'll remember it. I remember numbers. I'll write both numbers down for them."

"Tell them they can call me anytime. I promised Guinevere that I would not take y'all away from your jobs unless I absolutely had to."

"That's very considerate of you," Percy says, his brows furrowing. _This guy is unbelievable. Why is he willing to bend over backwards for this case, I wonder?_

"Don't want anyone to lose their jobs," Arthur says simply.

"No, I suppose not," Percy agrees.

"I'll see you tomorrow evening, then. Bring those copies."

"Yes, sir," Percy answers automatically, then wonders what prompted that response. "And I'll pass the message along to Duncan and Ezra that they can call you anytime."

"And try to impress on them that they _should_ call me. I'm tryin' to help, here, and they shouldn't worry. I realize that they'll be expectin' that Guinevere called Abe Jameson."

"I was wondering about that, myself, to be honest."

"Well, whatever her reasons, she called me, and I am completely committed to this case. Please try to convey that to them."

"I will. I… I think they trust me, even though I'm just some white boy that was suddenly made their boss," he chuckles.

"Good. I'll let you get back to work," Arthur says, then gives Percy his home phone number.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it."

Percy walks back to the warehouse, his limp only slightly noticeable. He worked hard to develop a natural gait after he was fitted with the prosthetic, not wishing to attract any more attention than he normally does.

He goes up to his office and takes a slip of paper.

_Arthur Pendragon. 555-3474 office. 555-2033 home. Call him any time, even at home. Share this with E.J._

Percy folds the paper in half, then half again, palming it in his large hand. He finds Duncan near the loading dock and catches his eye. Lifting his hand to scratch his neck, he makes sure to flash the slip of paper in his hand, and Duncan gives a very slight nod. Percy continues towards Duncan, who turns to the side, facing slightly away from his boss.

As Percy brushes past him, Duncan drops his hand down and behind, fingers outstretched, grasping the slip of paper Percy places in it.

xXx

Arthur is just getting ready to leave for the day when his phone rings. He grabs it immediately. "Arthur Pendragon."

"Mr. Pendragon? My name is Duncan Matthews. I got Ezra Johnson with me, here, too."

"Mr. Matthews, thank you for calling!"

"Thank you for taking Gwen's case, Mr. Pendragon," Duncan says. He sounds nervous, uneasy.

"Please, Arthur. I ain't old enough to be called 'Mr.' anything yet," he says, chuckling. "Was Percy Andersen able to tell you anything?"

"Not really, Mr. Arthur. He tole me that he had copies. He give me your number. Cain't really talk freely at work. Folks might be listenin'."

"I would like to meet with both of you if you're willin' to help out."

"I wouldn't be callin' you if I wasn't willin'."

"Good. I can meet any time. I promised Guinevere that I wouldn't take you gentlemen away from your jobs unless I absolutely had to. Weekend, evening, whatever works for you."

"We's free now, if you's free."

Arthur looks at his watch. "I am. You know Gwaine's?"

"O' course we do."

"Can you meet me there in fifteen minutes? I reckon we can talk pretty freely there."

"You… you don't want us to come to yo' office?"

"I'm hungry," Arthur says by way of explanation.

"Gwaine does do a mean barbecue," Duncan says.

"Well, if you boys care to join me for supper, I'll buy."

"Oh, now, I couldn't let you…"

"Business expense," Arthur interrupts. "Don't make me eat alone, now."

"Fifteen minutes, then," Duncan says.

Thirteen minutes later, Arthur heads inside Gwaine's to find that Duncan and Ezra are already there. At least he presumes the two black men seated at a table glancing anxiously at the door are Duncan and Ezra.

"Gwaine," Arthur nods at the barman, owner, and cook.

"Arthur," Gwaine nods back. Duncan looks up, hearing Gwaine address the well-dressed blonde man who just strode into the tavern. Gwaine nods at Duncan. _This is your man._

Duncan stands then, catching Arthur's eye. "Mr. Arthur?" Duncan appears to be slightly older than Uther, but Arthur guesses him to be about Uther's age. He is thin with balding gray hair.

"Just Arthur, no mister," Arthur smiles, extending his hand. Duncan tentatively takes it, and Arthur shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you in person, Mr. Matthews."

"If you's just Arthur, I's just Duncan," he says, relaxing slightly. "This here's Ezra," he introduces the other man.

Ezra takes Arthur's outstretched hand and stands as well. He looks like a skittish bird, nervous, haunted by something. He is older than Arthur, but younger than Duncan, perhaps 40.

"Relax, Ezra, everything will be fine," Arthur says in what he has now come to think of as his "Superman voice" thanks to Guinevere, and places his left hand over Ezra's hand, encapsulating the man's thin dry hand between both of his in a reassuring manner.

"Thank you, Mr… I mean Arthur," Ezra says.

"Please," Arthur motions for the two men to sit. He pulls his own chair out when some soft piano music starts to play. He looks up. "Excuse me just one moment, gents."

Duncan and Ezra watch as Arthur strides up to the piano, takes a very worn-looking dollar bill from his wallet, and places it in the glass on the top of the piano. Merlin mutters something they cannot hear, and then Arthur laughs loudly, throwing his head back. He squeezes Merlin's shoulder in a friendly way and saunters back to the table.

"Sorry, Merlin and I have been passing that dollar back and forth for about ten months now," Arthur says, chuckling as he sits.

"You know Merlin?" Ezra asks.

"He's my best friend," Arthur nods. "Thanks, man," he says to Gwaine, who has just brought them three bottles of Dr. Pepper. "I tried tipping him when he first started playin' here, you know, to encourage others to drop a coin or two in. He told me that a whole dollar was showin' off and tried givin' it back. I refused. Found it in my briefcase the next day when I got home from work. Now we keep passin' that bill back and forth. I've had it for three weeks now, bidin' my time."

"You white boys is strange," Duncan shakes his head.

"I know," Arthur answers, chuckling again, much to their surprise. "But that's what keeps life interestin', right? Everyone's a little strange."

"You boys want some grub?" Gwaine calls over.

"Darn right," Arthur calls back. "Set us up, my good man. Three of your finest… whatever you got goin' back there," he waves. Then he turns to Duncan and Ezra. "So. Guinevere gave me your names, so I presume there was a reason she chose you two special."

Duncan and Ezra look at each other. "What did the boss tell you?"

"Percy? Only that he has paperwork that proves that your equipment was faulty and that he was willing to take the stand and help us out." Arthur leaves out the nephew-of-the-big-boss detail, remembering that Percy didn't want that out. _It may prove a key point later, though._

"I've worked in that warehouse for ten year," Duncan says. "Longer'n most. Only one there long as me was Tom."

"So you can vouch for Tom's character, then?"

"Vouch?"

"Sorry. You are willing and able to say that Tom was a good man, that he wasn't doin' anything that he shouldn't have been doin' that would have put him in danger?"

"Yeah, I can vouch that," Duncan nods. "You seem to know Gwen pretty well," he says, looking sideways at Arthur a moment.

"I met her by accident back in August and have met with her officially on this case once. But I would say I have a pretty good idea about what kind of person she is, yes," Arthur says carefully.

"By accident?"

"I, um, bumped into her and knocked her down. Accidentally. 'Cause I wasn't watchin' where I was goin'."

"Fair enough," Duncan says. "What I'm gettin' at is Gwen is just like her Daddy. Never steppin' a toe out o' line. Not like that fool brother o' hers at all. At work, Tom was a… what do you white people say? He was a model employee."

Arthur takes a small notebook out of his inside breast pocket and starts making notes. "What's your job at the warehouse, Duncan?"

"I run the loading dock. Most o' those repair requests were submitted by me. Well, Boss submitted them, but I tell him what needs fixin'."

"Very good," Arthur nods, making notes. Gwaine arrives with three plates containing pulled pork sandwiches and coleslaw. "Thanks, Gwaine," he says, nodding.

"Ezra, how about you?"

"I don't do nothin' special," he says. "But I was the one drivin' that cursed fork truck. The one that kilt Tom."

"Oh, Lord, I am sorry," Arthur sets his pen down. Suddenly Ezra's strange demeanor comes into focus. "I'm sure Tom knows…"

"I know," Ezra says. "Gwen don't hold me to blame. No one holds me to blame 'cept me."

"Seems to me that Mr. Alined is to blame," Arthur says decisively. "You are as much a victim as Tom and Guinevere and Elyan, Ezra."

"At least I has my life," Ezra says, the guilt plain in his voice.

"Well, yes, but what kind o' life are you livin' right now? You're beatin' yourself up every minute. I can see it on you, plain as the shirt on your back."

"Yessuh," he says, nodding in agreement, his eyes downcast.

"Ezra, I don't want to make this any harder for you. If you can tell me what you can, it'll help Guinevere. It'll help all o' y'all."

"All?"

"Well, yes. Gwen isn't looking for money here. She wants things to be made safe for you, her father's friends and coworkers. She wants Mr. Alined to know that his negligence… um, lack of action will not go unnoticed. She wants something good to come out of her father's death."

"She tole you this?" Ezra says, looking up again.

"She did."

"Does sound like Gwen," Duncan says, smiling a little.

"The truck had bad brakes," Ezra suddenly starts talking, poking his coleslaw with his fork. "The steering was goin'. The tires was bald. It was startin' to make strange noises. The hydraulics needed tendin' to. We got a couple trucks, but we needs 'em both workin' else we get yelled at for not keepin' up. I lost the toss that day…"

"Lost the toss?"

"We was flippin' coins to see who had to drive the bad truck," he explains. Arthur makes a note of this. "I lost that day. Mort called tails. I always call tails. So I's drivin' this fool truck, strugglin'. I turn the wheel left, it go straight. I hit the brakes, it don't stop. 'Fore I knew it, I was headin' down the wrong aisle with the forks stuck half up. Tom was trapped. I…"

"You don't have to go on, Ezra. I saw the hospital report; I know what happened," Arthur says softly. He recalls some of the details and suddenly the pulled pork dripping with dark red barbecue sauce doesn't look so appetizing. He takes a bite of slaw instead.

xXx

_8:00. I hope that's not too late._ Arthur runs his hand through his hair and drops onto the brown leather sofa in his apartment. He kicks his shoes off and leans back. Then he leans forward again and yanks his socks off, tossing them over his shoulder. Wiggling his toes in the carpet, he stares at the ceiling.

_Just pick up the phone. It's for the case. It has nothing to do with that dream you had last night._

He reaches for the phone, picking up the entire thing and setting it in his lap.

_I just wish I could remember more of the details of that dream,_ he thinks, dialing the number now. _But it's probably better that I don't remember them._

"Hello?"

"Guinevere?"

"Arthur, hello," she says, recognizing his voice.

"I'm not calling too late, am I?"

"Arthur, it's just past eight. I'm allowed to stay up till eleven if I eat all my dinner."

"Sorry, you're right," he laughs. "How are you?"

"Curious."

"All right, no small talk, then. I talked to Percy Andersen today and I met with Duncan and Ezra this evening."

"Wow, already?"

"I was surprised, too. I'm meeting with Percy tomorrow after work. In the meantime, I've got statements from both Duncan and Ezra. Poor Ezra," he says, shifting gears slightly.

"He still beatin' himself up?"

"Yeah. I hope talkin' about it will help, though. I think they were impressed… honored that you're fighting for them."

"It would be selfish to just look out for myself when there's so much more wrong there."

"I explained that, and Duncan said that it sounded like something you'd do," Arthur says.

Gwen laughs a little. "He's a good man, Duncan. Daddy always liked him."

"Has a good head on his shoulders, yeah. Smart."

"Is Percy with us?"

"Surprisingly, yes. He has some very good evidence for us. He made copies of all those requests before he submitted them."

"You're pullin' my leg!"

"No, he's got 'em. Bringin' 'em with tomorrow."

"That's… unbelievable."

"He's an interesting fellow," Arthur says. He pauses then, debating. "Um, Guinevere? We were right. He is related to Alined."

"Oh, no…"

"But he says he's still willing to help you. Called Alined a 'slimeball.'"

"How're they related?"

"Uncle. He said he didn't want it spread around."

"Our secret," Gwen promises.

"Until we _need_ to let the cat out of the bag."

"He's goin' to need to tell," she agrees.

"Exactly. 'Cause if _we_ don't divulge that information, you'd better believe that Aggy Boudreaux will be all over it like there was a dollar trapped inside."

"Aggy Boudreaux? He's Alined's lawyer?"

"According to my pop, yes."

"He's kind of a…"

"Bastard. If you'll excuse the language."

"You haven't been 'round my brother enough. I've heard it all," she laughs.

"How did Elyan take the news?"

"About how I 'spected. He was mad that I didn't talk to him about it, but he's fine now. Supportin' me."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Me, too."

"Um," he pauses, not sure where to go now. "Merlin managed to get your father's work records for me today. Alined's assistant is an uncooperative son of a bi—"

Gwen laughs as Arthur censors himself again. "Yeah, Daddy mentioned him once or twice. Called him a 'toady.'"

"Sounds about right." He pauses a moment. "Guinevere, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Are you and Elyan… all right? I mean, financially? I know you said your father had some savings, but…"

"We're doing okay. The house is near paid for."

"House?"

"He and mama managed to buy a house. It ain't much, and I live the apartment upstairs. Elyan lives downstairs. With Daddy, when he was still with us."

"I see."

"I paid rent, too, nice and proper."

"Have you had someone look at your father's accounts? I'm only asking because we have a really good numbers guy in the office, and if you want I can set up an appointment for you. I'm sure he'll be able to get things sorted just right for you and Elyan."

"That's… very thoughtful. Thank you, Arthur. Let me run it by Elyan and I'll let you know," she says, and he can hear the smirk in her voice.

"Not gonna make that mistake another time, hey?" he chuckles.

"Darn right."

They're both silent a moment, neither knowing what to say or how to end the conversation.

"Well—"

"Um—"

They laugh nervously. "I'll be in touch again after I talk to Percy tomorrow," he says.

"All right."

"Goodnight, Guinevere."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

Arthur drops his head back against the couch. _I shouldn't be thinking like this. She's a client. She's colored. She's pretty. She's smart. She's funny. She genuinely cares about people. She's not like anyone I've ever met before._

_ She's a client._

_ She's colored._

_ Don't be stupid, Arthur. It's just a… an infatuation. Curiosity. That's it. Doing… anything with this girl could be very dangerous. For her._

_ Stop it._

Across town, as Gwen settles down into bed for the night several hours later, the last thing she hears in her mind before she drifts off to sleep is Arthur's voice.

Goodnight, Guinevere.


	5. Chapter 5

"Andersen," Percy picks up his phone the next morning.

"Percy. Arthur."

"Um…"

"I'm only going to say two words, all right?"

"Okay."

"Accident reports."

"Understood."

_Click._

Percy hangs up the phone, stares at it a moment, and then goes back to his file cabinet. He pulls open the drawer and withdraws another folder, placing it in the bottom drawer with the other.

xXx

Arthur heads out of his office door in search of lunch. As he pulls the door open, his phone rings.

"Aw, I'm hungry…" he complains, but goes back to answer his phone anyway.

"Arthur Pendragon."

"Hello, Arthur?"

"Guinevere," he says, his voice brightening.

"I just have a few moments, but I did speak to my brother this morning. He was actually happy to have your man take a look at Daddy's affairs. He'd been worryin' about it, but he didn't know what to do."

"I'll talk to Geoffrey and see what he has available. Is there a number I can reach you at?"

"Not 'til I'm done here at school. I'll call you around three."

Just then Arthur sees the man in question walking past his door. "Geoffrey!" he yells, then, "Sorry," to Gwen, who starts giggling on the other end of the line.

"You need me, Arthur?" Geoffrey says, appearing in the doorway.

"Yes," he says. "Hang on one moment," he tells Gwen. "I have an estate that needs seein' to. Do you have some time for a client of mine?"

"From the wrongful death case? Ah, let me think. I have some time this afternoon, in fact." Geoffrey pulls a small appointment book out of his breast pocket.

"Did you hear that?" Arthur relays to Gwen.

"Yes, but what time?"

"Time?"

"3:30 should work," Geoffrey says, tapping his book.

"That should be fine," Gwen says before Arthur can ask.

"Thanks, Geoffrey," Arthur says.

"You're welcome," Geoffrey nods, and exits.

"He seems… businesslike…" Gwen says.

"Yeah, he's a bit stuffy, but he's good people."

"He's okay with…?"

"Guinevere, _everyone_ in this office knows who you are and what color your skin is, darlin', so don't feel you have to keep checkin', okay?"

_Darlin'?_ "Thank you, Arthur. I have to go. My afternoon students will be here soon."

"Maybe I'll see you later," Arthur says.

"Maybe."

After lunch, Arthur sits at his desk and stares, tapping his pencil on his desk. The clock on his bookcase ticks stalwartly away.

_Repair requests… accident reports… work records… what else?_

_ Repair requests… accident reports…_

Arthur stands and goes to a file cabinet, pulling out a form.

Five minutes later he picks up his phone and presses a three-digit number.

"Yes?"

"Hunith, where's—"

"I'll send him over, Duckling."

"Thanks."

A minute later, Merlin opens Arthur's door. Arthur just sighs. "Merlin, please take this downtown and have it processed. Find out how quickly you can get it back." He hands the paper to Merlin.

Merlin looks at the form. "Really? You're going to try and go into the lion's den?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Not me. I need… that guy. You know. The guy," Arthur says, snapping his fingers, trying to dredge up the name.

"Oh! _That_ guy," Merlin nods, knowing who Arthur is talking about now.

"What is his name?"

"You're honestly asking me?"

"Right. Stupid of me. Get going," Arthur waves him off and dials his father's direct number now.

"Pendragon," Uther answers.

"Me, too," Arthur replies. "Pop, what's that guy's name?"

"I'm going to need a little more information, Arthur."

"You know, that _guy._ You know, the creepy one. The fix-it guy."

"Jack Aredian?"

"Yes! Him!" Arthur yells.

"You want to hire him?" Uther asks. "You'll need a court order for what he needs to do."

"I just sent Merlin. I have a plan, Pop."

"Let me get you his number. Mention you're my son or he won't even give you the time of day."

"Right, because there are so many Pendragons in Memphis," Arthur says sarcastically. "Last I checked it was only you and me."

"Do you want the number or not?"

"Hit me."

xXx

Arthur looks at his watch. _4:45. I hope everything's going okay for her._ He had wanted to see Gwen when she arrived for her 3:30 appointment with Geoffrey, and only realized that he missed her when he looked up at the clock and saw that it was 3:42. He'd been closed up in his office for the last hour, reading up on other wrongful death cases, particularly ones involving workplace accidents, and found that he was inexplicably irritated with himself for missing her.

_I am not a stalker. I am not a stalker._ Arthur strolls down the corridor, looking like he's got a purpose. When he passes Geoffrey's closed door, he frowns at it.

_What the hell is my problem, anyway?_

Just then Geoffrey's door opens, and Arthur's eyes are drawn like a moth to flame.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Morton, I can't tell you how much I appreciate the help you've given my brother and me," Gwen is saying.

"Just doing my job, Miss Thompson," Geoffrey says. "Ah, Arthur, I believe you know Miss Thompson."

"Indeed I do," Arthur says. "Hello, Guinevere."

"Hi, Arthur," she greets him, clutching a thick folder to her chest. "Thank you again for recommending I see Mr. Morton. He's just made Elyan's and my life a whole lot easier."

"Just a little creative rearranging. We consolidated some things, transferred some other things. Simple," Geoffrey says.

"For you, maybe," Arthur says. "I'm just headin' out to Gwaine's to meet with Percy. I'll walk you out."

Geoffrey nods and withdraws to his office.

"Is Gwaine's your second office now?" Gwen asks.

"I don't like staying here late. Have you been to Gwaine's? I know Elyan has."

"Yes, he's been there, but he's never bothered to invite me along," Gwen says.

"You should come out sometime. I know Merlin would love for you to hear him play."

"I would like to hear Merlin play," she says, waiting as Arthur ducks into his office to grab a couple things.

"If you're not doing anything now, why don't you come along with me?" he asks softly.

She stops walking. "Arthur, I can't be goin' to no tavern with a white man. I know you don't have any _intentions,_ but other people don't know that."

Arthur presses his lips together. _I can't believe I didn't even think of that._ "Of course, you're right. I'm sorry, Guinevere, I didn't mean to…"  
"It's all right, Arthur, I know. Tell you what. Next time Elyan goes, I'll tag along, and maybe I'll see you." They start walking again.

"Fair enough."

They exit into the lobby. "Good night, Mr. Pendragon," Vivian practically sings after them. "Oh, good night, Miss Thompson," she adds, almost an afterthought.

"Vivian," Arthur says, hardly glancing her way.

"Good night, Vivian," Gwen says pleasantly, smiling at her.

Outside, Gwen smirks at him. "Your receptionist is sweet on you."

"What? Vivian?"

"Lord, you didn't see the eyes she was makin' at you when you walked past? 'Good night, Mr. Pendragon,'" she sings, mocking Vivian's tone exactly.

Arthur laughs. "No…"

"Yes! She blushes every time she talks to you. I saw it the first time I came here."

Arthur shrugs.

"You ain't interested? She's very pretty."

"If you like that type," he says noncommittally.

"You don't?"

"That's irrelevant," he says, a little too hastily. "She works for my father, for one. Second, well, she's kind of an idiot. And spoiled."

"Spoiled?"

"She doesn't need to work at all. Her daddy made her get a job because he's afraid some man is going to lead her astray and, I don't know, ruin her or something. He figures if she's trapped behind a desk all day she can't get herself into trouble. I reckon."

"What does he do with her at night? Lock her in a tower?"

Arthur laughs. "I wouldn't put it past him."

"This your car?" he points to a large green Chevy Impala parked by the curb.

"It was Daddy's," she says. "It's a bit big for me, but I don't have much choice."

Arthur nods.

"You're gonna be late for Percy," she says.

"Oh, yeah. Right. I'll call you if I have any news from the meeting," he says, watching her stand there in the sunlight, still holding the folder to her chest. Idly wishing somewhere in the back of his brain that he was that folder.

"All right. Have a good night, Arthur," she says, walking around to unlock her door.

"You, too."

xXx

5:03 and Arthur is entering Gwaine's, irritated that he's late. He scans the tavern. _I should have asked Percy what he looked like,_ he thinks, then his eyes land on an exceedingly clean-cut young man, sitting straight in a chair at a table.

_He sits at attention. That must be him._ He walks over. "Percy?"

Percy nods and stands, extending an arm the size of a country ham ending in a hand the size of a catcher's mitt. Arthur shakes his hand and introduces himself.

"Arthur Pendragon," he says, looking up at the man.

Arthur had always considered himself to be fairly good-sized, an even six feet tall, muscular and fit. Quarterback on both his high school and college football teams; fighting fit. He's used to being in the company of Merlin, who, while an inch or so taller, is pretty scrawny.

Next to Percy Andersen, Arthur feels like a runt.

"Is that what I think it is?" Arthur asks, sitting now. Percy sits as well, nodding, sliding the folders over to him.

"Yes. These are the repair forms, these are the accident reports."

"There's a lot here," Arthur remarks, opening the folder. "You hungry?"

"I'm always hungry," Percy says. "And I smell fried chicken." He looks hopefully towards the door to the kitchen.

"Gwaine!" Arthur calls, waving him over.

"Another meeting, Art?" Gwaine asks, sauntering over.

Arthur cringes, and Gwaine grins. Arthur says nothing, refusing to engage him. "My guest here claims he smells fried chicken."

"You have a good nose, my…" he pauses as his hand connects with Percy's shoulder, "_large_ friend."

"Well, then, set us up. I have a feeling that Percy here can probably put away a fair amount, so don't be stingy."

Gwaine chuckles and nods, wandering away.

"Business expense," Arthur says just as Percy is opening his mouth to protest.

"Thanks," he says.

Arthur flips through the forms. "These are even in chronological order. Very nice. That will make things very helpful. May I borrow these for a while?"

"Yes, of course. Alined doesn't know I have them anyway. But how do all of these relate to Tom's death?"

"Well, this trial ain't strictly about just Tom. Guinevere isn't out for cash compensation. She wants things to be safer, better for everyone there."

"Oh," Percy leans back, slightly surprised. "That's really…"

"Thoughtful?" Arthur supplies. "Ah, chicken," he says when Gwaine sets a platter heaped with chicken on the table for Arthur and Percy. He also gives them each a plate with some greens and cornbread. "And cornbread, too. Gwaine, you'll make some man a mighty fine wife one day," he says, laughing as Gwaine smacks him on the back of the head and walks away. "Hey! We need some drinks here, man!"

Gwaine returns a minute later with Dr. Pepper again, knowing that Arthur is working and won't be drinking any alcohol, and he prefers Dr. Pepper over anything else.

"So. Where were we? Ah. What I plan to do with these," he points to the folders with a chicken leg, "is cross-reference them to determine which of the accidents relate to repairs that did not get done."

Percy nods, his mouth full. He swallows. "Damn, this is good chicken. And that's a good plan. I wish we could get the originals of these repair requests. That would prove that they haven't been done. See this space here?" He points to a blank on the bottom corner of the form. "That would be initialed by the maintenance man when he completes the repair. That's the only way we would know. And the originals would be in Alined's office. Or in Trickler's desk."

"Trickler?" Arthur takes his notebook out now.

"Dennis Trickler. Alined's, um, 'personal assistant.' Really he's a sniveling little yes-man. I think he's queer for Alined, the way he follows him around."

"Um, okaayyyy…" Arthur doesn't quite know what to make of this information. "So it's doubtful we'd be able to convince him to testify against your uncle, then."

"Please don't call him that," Percy says, making a face.

Arthur had noticed that Percy has not once referred to Eugene Alined as anything other than "Alined." Not Uncle Eugene, not Uncle, not even Eugene. "So what's going on with you and him? He gave you a job but you hate him. What happened there?"

Percy bites his lip and looks at his plate.

"Percy, if you don't tell me, Boudreaux will drag it out of you on the witness stand. It's better if I know everything up front so we can be prepared for anything. I realize it's probably difficult, but I may be able to spin it to our advantage."

"Well, there is something you should know about Alined," Percy says.

xXx

"Elyan, where are you off to?" Gwen asks, washing the dinner dishes.

"Out," he says, tucking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Out where?" she presses.

"You ain't my mama," he shoots back, and she flicks the dishtowel at him.

"I'm just wonderin', is all."

"Why, you fixin' to come along?"

"Maybe. Depends on where you goin'."

"Gwaine's."

_Do I dare?_ Gwen thinks, wondering why her heart seems to be speeding up. "Do you mind if I tag along?"

"'Course you can come. But why you interested now?"

"I'd like to hear that Merlin play the piano," she says, deciding that it was a safe enough excuse. _"I'm hoping that Arthur is still there" would not go over well at all._

_ Not that I'm hoping Arthur will be there. That is not a good idea at all. No matter how many times he says I'm pretty or calls me "darlin'"_

"Oh," Elyan says, furrowing his brows a little. "You almost done there?"

"I'd be faster if you'd get off your tail and help," she says, throwing the towel at his head now.

"Fine," he sighs, standing and crossing to help dry the dishes.

"I made your dinner, least you can do is help clean up," she mutters.

Twenty minutes later they walk into Gwaine's, Gwen slightly behind Elyan as they enter the slightly smoky dimness.

"Elyan, who is this angel come from heaven?" a voice, slightly smoky like the atmosphere in the bar, greets them.

"This is Gwen," Elyan introduces her to Gwaine, who holds his hand out to her.

"Gwen," he says, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "I'm Gwaine. Allow me to welcome you to my humble establishment."

Gwen's eyes grow wide at the actions of this strange white man. She delicately extracts her hand from his. "Thank you," she manages.

"Yes, indeed, you are most certainly an angel. Where you been hidin' her, Elyan?"

"He hasn't been hidin' me anywhere," Gwen says. "And if I'm an angel, then surely you are the devil himself, sir."

Gwaine laughs loudly at this, actually delighted with her assessment. "Hold on to this one, El. I like her; she's quick."

"She's my sister, Gwaine," Elyan says, "so hangin' on to ain't the problem, it's gettin' rid of."

"Elyan!" Gwen punches his shoulder now, and Gwaine laughs even harder.

"What can I get you to drink, Miss Gwen?"

"Something without alcohol," she says.

Gwaine gives her a bottle of Pepsi and a straw. "Gwen. Gwaine. Our names are almost the same," he grins. "Gwen-Gwaine-Gwen-Gwaine," he says quickly, as if it were a tongue-twister.

"Almost," she laughs. "But I would be very surprised indeed if your full name was Gwainevere."

Finally Gwaine is rendered speechless, and Gwen turns from the bar while he stares, dumbfounded.

"Where is Merlin?" she asks, her eyes unwittingly falling on a familiar golden blonde head.

"Hey, Gwainevere," Elyan calls, "Where's Merlin?"

"Takin' a break. He'll be out in a couple. And shut up."

Elyan laughs, basking in his sister's victory over Gwaine in verbal sparring. "Ain't that your lawyer friend there?" Elyan has spotted Arthur now, too.

"Yes," Gwen says blankly.

Elyan gives her a sideways look that clearly says _You best be comin' here to hear Merlin play, not to see Blonde Mr. Charlie._ Gwen ignores him.

"You not goin' to go say hello?"

"He's workin'."

"He's eatin'."

"He's _workin',_ Elyan. See the papers on the table? Behind the chicken? And that's Percy Andersen with him."

"How do you know?"

"I knew he was meetin' with him tonight, that's how," she snaps. "They're workin' on our case."

"Well, from the looks o' things, Mr. Andersen has just told – what's his name? Arthur – something pretty shockin'."

_Wonder if it has somethin' to do with Alined,_ she thinks, sipping her drink. She hasn't told Elyan about Percy and Alined being related.

Merlin wanders out now, leaning behind the bar and grabbing a bottle of 7-Up for himself. "Gwen!" he exclaims.

"Hi, Merlin," she says, smiling at him. "I came to see you play."

"Hey, thanks! I'm just headin' back up there," he says. "Hey…"

"Elyan," Gwen supplies, reminding him.

"Elyan, right," Merlin grins, holding his hand out to shake Elyan's hand.

"Merlin," Elyan nods. "Just you tonight?"

"Yeah. Aaron and Fred are playin' over at Jook's. They don't let me in there."

"Why not?" Gwen asks.

"Because I'm white, obviously," Merlin says, shrugging. "Aaron tried. Even had Tony come over here and listen to me play. He said I was good, but it was too risky, even though _I_ would be the one takin' the risk."

"Hmm," Gwen says, mulling this over. _I never thought about the fact that it might be difficult for a white Irish boy to try to make a name for himself playin' colored music. Of course I never thought I'd meet a white Irish boy who was trying to play colored music._

"Hey, I'm not payin' you to stand around and wave your gums, Merls," Gwaine says. "I'm payin' you to sit around and wave your fingers. So get goin'."

"All right, all right," Merlin waves his free hand dismissively at Gwaine.

"You pay for that 7-Up?" Gwaine calls. Merlin pantomimes like he can't hear Gwaine, taking a long drink from his bottle.

He sits down at the piano, and Gwen moves forward, closer to the makeshift stage. Around her she hears some muttering, people that are obviously not familiar with Merlin, wondering what kind of music is going to be coming out of that piano.

Merlin takes another drink and sets the bottle on top of the piano next to an empty and slightly smudged Mason jar. He bends over the keys and begins to play.

"Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho" comes forth, jaunty and swinging, winning over some immediately. Others are still skeptical, but while Gwen notices they keep their comments quiet, she has a feeling Merlin knows they're being made.

She glances over at Arthur again, and he looks more relaxed, seeming to be chatting with Percy now. She watches surreptitiously.

_He's telling Percy about Merlin,_ she guesses, noting that he points in the piano player's direction once or twice.

"Do you want to get a table?" Elyan asks.

"You don't have to babysit me, Elyan," she tells him. "I know you have your eye on that tall gal over there."

"Do not," Elyan argues.

"You can't lie to me and you know it. I'll be fine; go talk to her before that man in the red shirt beats you to it."

"What man in a red shirt?" he asks, straightening up and looking around. He doesn't see anyone in a red shirt.

Gwen smirks knowingly at him and he stomps stubbornly away, towards the girl.

Merlin finishes his song and Gwen sets her Pepsi down to applaud loudly. Several others join in, and Gwen smiles. Then she gets an idea. She digs into her purse and pulls out two dimes. Holding her head high, she strides forward, drops the dimes in Merlin's Mason jar, and smiles at him.

Merlin grins back and starts another tune, something newer. "Blue Train," by John Coltrane. Gwen sees some appreciative nods among the crowd. She also feels a set of blue eyes on her before she sees the familiar handsome face watching her walk back to her table.

Gwen waves shyly, and is about to sit when he waves her over.

_Go and say hello. Then come back to your own table._

"Arthur, hello," she says. She approaches the table and both men stand.

"Well, this is a surprise," he smiles lazily at her. "I wasn't expectin' to see you here tonight."

"Well, Elyan was headin' out here, coincidentally enough. Percy, nice to see you."

"Hello, Gwen," Percy says, nodding at her.

"Thank you so much for helping us with this case. I really can't say how grateful I am," she tells him, looking up at him.

"Please, sit," Arthur motions to a chair.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't…"

"Guinevere, it's fine," Arthur says. "Sit and talk for a minute, then you won't be bothered by me calling you later."

"All right," she says, sitting. The two men follow suit. "What is all this?"

"Chicken bones, mostly," Arthur answers.

"Not _this,_" she waves at the carnage before her, "this." She points to the folders.

"Unfulfilled repair requests and accident reports. I'm going to figure out how they relate to each other."

"Oh, I see. If you can prove that…" she picks up a form, "Michael Simpson was injured by a…" she picks up another, "scissor lift that was in need of repairs…"

"Then we can not only make our case, but perhaps even get the Simpson family some compensation. Lost wages, hospital bills, that kind of thing."

Gwen's face breaks into a smile that Arthur could only describe as beautiful. "Um, I have another trick up my sleeve as well."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I was telling Percy here that my father has a man that I'd like to have come to the warehouse and maybe even the factory, if I can sneak him in that far. We call him the fix-it man."

"What's he fix?"

"Everything. He's a mechanical genius, and a complete nut for safety. He's also one of the scariest people you'll ever meet. But he's my father's friend, and he's agreed to help. Seemed pretty keen on it, actually."

"When?"

"Soon as we get the court order allowing the inspection. Hopin' for tomorrow, but Friday's more likely."

"What will he do?"

"Inspect the machinery and equipment. Make notes on his findings. I'm not gonna give him these," he points to the repair requests. "I don't want to influence his work. Not that it would, prob'ly, but the whole point is if Jack Aredian finds the same problems as what's on these papers…"

"Then Alined is in big trouble."

Arthur nods. "He'll probably find more, if I were to hazard a guess."

"Why is he scary?"

"He's just very… severe. He doesn't really talk much. His face is unreadable. All business. I've been tempted to poke him with something sharp to make sure he's human, actually," he chuckles. "Don't know if he'd bleed blood or machine oil."

Gwen laughs and takes a sip of her Pepsi, glancing up at Merlin again. "He's very good," she comments. "Seems to be favoring John Coltrane, I notice."

"His latest obsession," Arthur comments absently. He glances at Percy. "Can I tell her what you told me before? I think she should know."

"Know what?" Gwen asks.

Percy shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"She'll keep it under wraps, Percy, I promise. She already knows you're related to him. I told her because it is relevant to her case. And so is this."

Percy nods. "All right."


	6. Chapter 6

"Already? Excellent," Arthur says when Merlin hands him the much-awaited court order. He picks up the phone and dials Jack Aredian.

Half an hour later Arthur and Aredian are waiting by the warehouse entrance.

"Where is your man, Pendragon? You did say eleven a.m."

"He'll be here. He's got a warehouse to run, Mr. Aredian, he may have gotten waylaid—ah."

The door opens and Percy's head pokes out. "Hey," he says. "Sorry I'm a little late, I was—"

"It's just two minutes, Percy, no harm done," Arthur says, ignoring Aredian's glower. They follow him inside and Aredian's eyes are already scanning every surface. He takes out a notebook and makes a few notes already.

"Jack Aredian, this is Percy Andersen. He's the warehouse manager here," Arthur introduces the two men. Percy extends his hand and Aredian shakes it briefly.

"I'd like to begin," he says.

Duncan jogs up now. "You wanted to see me, boss?"

"Yes," Percy says. "I thought it might, um, look better if Duncan here showed Mr. Aredian around. To the men, I mean. I don't want anyone to interfere with what Mr. Aredian is doing, and the men trust Duncan."

"I see," Arthur nods. "That all right with you, Mr. Aredian?"

Aredian nods once, and waves his pen, indicating that he'd like to proceed.

"Mr. Aredian, if you'd follow me," Duncan says. "We'll start with the loading dock. That's where I work."

"Duncan," Arthur grabs his shoulder lightly. "No chit-chat, okay? He doesn't do chit-chat. With anyone. Just take him where he wants to go," he whispers.

Duncan nods. "Understood." He turns back to the impatient Aredian. "This way, sir."

Arthur turns to Percy. "Don't worry. I have a court order saying we're allowed to be here. In fact, Alined should be receiving his papers any day now. Or Boudreaux may get them."

"In either case, he'll find out soon enough, right?" Percy says. "You want a tour while we're waiting?"

"Sure."

xXx

Arthur has been on pins and needles, waiting for it to be late enough in the day to call Guinevere.

_She said she was done at school at 2:45 and was able to be here by 3:15. It's 3:02._

He picks up the phone and dials. The phone rings interminably, and just when he is about to hang up, she answers, breathless. "Hello?"

"Guinevere," he blurts, not even a hello.

"Arthur! I just walked in the door! What's goin' on?"

"Our fix-it guy had a very enlightening visit to Alined Paper today."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," she says and hangs up the phone.

Arthur hears the click and stars at the handset in his hand for a moment before hanging it up.

Nine and a half minutes later, his phone rings. "Arthur Pendragon."

"Mr. Pendragon, Miss Thompson to see you," Vivian tells him.

"Very good. Send her back, please."

"Of course, sir."

Arthur hangs up and he thinks about what Gwen told him the day before. _Your receptionist is sweet on you._ He could hear it in Vivian's voice just then. The… expectation, the hope.

_Too bad I don't find her the least bit attractive. She's probably only interested because I would probably be "acceptable" to Olaf. Yes, I'm sure that's it._

There is a light knock on his door. "Come in," he calls.

"Hello," she says, poking her head inside. He stands and smiles, directing her to the chair opposite his desk.

"Hello, Guinevere," he sits once she's seated. She notices he doesn't seem to be able to stop smiling.

"So the inspection went well?"

He nods, handing her a stack of papers. "For us, it was fantastic. For Alined, not so well."

Gwen takes the stack. "Goodness, there's a lot," she exclaims, flipping through them. "Did he find everything that Percy already had?"

"Yes, he found those 10 things, plus another 5. He also remarked on cracks in the concrete, peeling paint, and an excessive rodent problem."

"Rodents?"

"They spread disease," he says. "You know that the bubonic plague in the Middle Ages was carried by fleas on rats, don't you?"

"Suddenly I'm not as hungry for supper, but yes, I did know that."

"So the good news is we have third-party confirmation that problems are being ignored in the warehouse," he says, his smile faltering for the first time now.

"And the bad news?"

"We need proof that the reports that Percy submitted were ignored. And that proof is either in Alined's or Trickler's office."

"The original reports," Gwen realizes, frowning. "How can we get those?"

"Well, I might be able to get a warrant," Arthur muses, tapping his index finger against his pursed lips.

"Worth a try," she says with a shrug.

Arthur makes a note to follow up with that. "They may tell us no, but you're right, we should try. Now, there's one other thing I want to ask you about."

"All right," she says, setting the reports back on Arthur's desk.

"I have no intention of calling you to the witness stand," he starts. "Don't see there's much of a point, honestly. But I can't guarantee that Boudreaux will show you the same courtesy."

"I understand. From what I've heard about this man, he's nothin' but a snake."

"Yes. I've looked into your records as much as I can, but I'm gonna ask you: is there anything in your past, anything at all that he could drag out and try to use against you to try and make you look bad?"

Gwen thinks. "What records have you looked into, exactly?"

He picks up a folder. "Well, I've got the information from the Motor Vehicle Department, which you know. I talked to my friends at the police station, and they had nothing on you."

"Can't say the same about my brother," she mutters.

"One disorderly conduct charge ain't gonna hurt us at all, 'specially since he's not directly involved with this case," Arthur waves his hand dismissively. "I also have school transcripts ranging from college all the way back to elementary school." He holds one up. "Memphis State on scholarship, Miss Thompson, very impressive."

"Thank you," she says. "That's when I moved into the apartment upstairs. Old Mr. Richards had just moved out and it was gettin' impossible for me to study with Daddy and Elyan botherin' me every ten minutes. O' course, Mama had just passed on, too, so that just made it harder on them, 'cause she wasn't there to look after them."

"That must have been very hard, tryin' to concentrate on your studies with all that goin' on," Arthur says. _I don't think I would have had that kind of strength at that age. I don't think I have that kind of strength now._

"You do what needs to be done because it needs to be done," she says. "My mama used to say that."

Arthur nods, growing ever more impressed with Gwen as the minutes tick by.

_Careful._

After a moment, Arthur speaks again. "So, then, I assume that your past is clean?"

"As far as I can recollect," she nods.

"Not even a parking ticket? Jaywalking? Um… littering? No crazy pranks in college?" He looks at the college papers again.

"No," she laughs.

"What about…" he raises an eyebrow, "Hilda?"

Gwen laughs even harder now. "Yes, my middle name is Hilda. I don't think they'll be able to use that against me in a court of law, considerin' I had no choice in the matter. Hilda was my Grandmother, on my mama's side."

"My middle name is Basil," he tells her sheepishly.

"Basil? Like Basil Rathbone?" she says, trying not to laugh.

"Like Basil Pendragon, my grandfather. My family is originally from England."

"I don't know if that's worse than Hilda or better," she says, smirking at him.

"It's why I don't use my middle initial, like a lot of lawyers do. People would be askin' me what the 'B' stands for, and I wouldn't want to tell 'em."

"I don't blame you. I always…"

Gwen is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Excuse me a moment," Arthur says. "Yes?"

The door opens, and Uther strides in, an envelope in his hand. "Sorry to interrupt, Arthur," he says. "Hello, I don't believe we've met," Uther says to Gwen, holding his hand out to her. "Uther Pendragon. You must be Guinevere Thompson."

"I am indeed," she says, standing to shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

"You, too. Please, sit," Uther says. "I've heard a lot about you from my son. Seems you have yourself quite a case here. A case that will be going to trial a week from tomorrow," he says, handing the envelope to Arthur and sitting in the other chair.

"What? I haven't even heard from Boudreaux yet!" Arthur exclaims, opening it and inspecting the contents.

"Oh, you will be. He just called me and read me the riot act, thinking that I somehow had my hands in this affair because you are my son."

Arthur scoffs, gnawing his lower lip absently as his eyes scan the documents.

"I told him nothing, of course, other than that he should address any and all questions to you."

"Thanks, I think…"

Uther chuckles now. "Is the judge assignment on there?"

"That's what I'm lookin' for, Pop. Ah, here it is. Judge John Rodor." He looks up. "Could be worse."

Gwen watches, suddenly nervous, looking back and forth between father and son.

"True. He's not the _most_ open-minded judge on the bench, but he's definitely not a bigot like Judge Odin. You would get nowhere with him, I'm afraid," Uther says, this last bit directed at Gwen.

"That's lucky, then, I guess…"

"Guinevere," Arthur says, setting the papers down.

Something in Arthur's tone gives Uther pause, and he decides to pay close attention.

"Don't worry. Rodor is a decent man. Yes, he's an old white man, but he's not one of those judges that automatically finds in favor of whoever is white. He'll listen. Plus, he doesn't care much for Boudreaux. Right, Pop?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, that's right. Aggy Boudreaux has been found in contempt of court by Judge Rodor so often that he practically has his name written on the paperwork before the trial begins."

"Aren't judges supposed to be fair and impartial?" Gwen asks.

"Aren't people supposed to treat other people with kindness and respect?" Arthur asks in response.

"Point taken," she says, half-smiling. _There he goes, sounding like Superman again._ She looks down at her hands folded in her lap.

_Something about the way he says her name, the way he looks at her… this is troublesome,_ Uther thinks. He stands. "I'll let you get back to your meeting, then. Miss Thompson, it was a pleasure. Best of luck to you," he nods.

"Thank you, sir."

Uther leaves them. _What to do?_

"Where were we?" Arthur asks.

"Middle names," Gwen says. "Very important to my case."

"Right," he laughs.

Fifteen minutes later, Uther watches them emerge from Arthur's office, chatting companionably, seeming to be arguing lightly about fried chicken, of all things.

"…I don't care how good you say Gwaine's chicken is, I would wager that mine is better," she says stubbornly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to let me be the judge of that sometime, then, won't you?" Arthur shoots back.

To her credit, Gwen gives him a slightly puzzled look before answering with a hesitant, "Sure…"

Uther loses sight of them when they exit to the lobby, Arthur's gentlemanly hand on her elbow as she goes through the door.

"Um, if I find out anything earth-shattering from Boudreaux tomorrow, I'll call you," Arthur says.

"All right," Gwen says.

"Have a good night, Guinevere. Tell your brother hey for me."

"Good night, Arthur," Gwen says. Over Arthur's shoulder she sees Vivian bristle slightly. _What on earth? Oh, I called him Arthur. She only ever calls him Mr. Pendragon._ She smiles lightly and exits into the late afternoon sunshine outside.

xXx

"Mr. Pendragon, this case is going to trial in a week," Leon protests. "I know nothing about it. I need time to prepare."

"We can try to get it postponed, but I don't think that'll be necessary. I've been looking over Arthur's notes and papers, and everything is very clear. I could handle this case if it were going to trial tomorrow; you'll be fine."

"Why?"

"I have reason to believe that Arthur is losing his objectivity with his client," he says, his face a mask.

"Sir?"

"Leon, I want you to take over this case. You've got more experience. I know your specialty is business law, but this is a case dealing with a business. He's got four witnesses and enough evidence to present a nearly iron-clad case. You could do this in your sleep."

"All right," Leon sighs. "I'll take this home and look it over tonight."

"Sorry to keep you late, Leon. Thank you."

"Good night, sir."

xXx

"Hello?" Gwen is just about to leave for school when her phone rings. She only answers because it may be Arthur.

"Miss Thompson?"

"…Yes?" she answers warily, praying to God that this isn't Aggy Boudreaux calling her.

"My name is Leon Winters, I'm an associate of Arthur Pendragon's."

"Oh, hello."

"Do you have a few minutes?"

"Very few, I'm sorry, I'm just headin' out to work."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just had a few questions for you."

"May I ask what this is regarding?" _Why isn't Arthur calling?_

"Your case. I just wanted to get some basic information since I'm taking over your case."

Gwen says nothing, sitting heavily in a kitchen chair. "Beg pardon?" she finally says, quietly.

"I just wanted…"

"I heard you. What was that about your taking over my case?"

"You… you didn't know?"

"No."

"Oh, Lord, I'm… I'm sorry… I thought…"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Winters, but I need to get to my work or I'll be late."

"Understood. I'll… I'll call later."

"After three. Have… have a good day, sir," she says, hanging up.

Gwen looks at the clock. _I'll have to drive now._ She grabs the keys to her father's car and realizes her hand is trembling slightly.

_Hurt. Betrayed. Angry._

_ Heartbroken?_

The last thing Gwen feels like doing now is going to work, but it's too late to call in sick. She takes a deep, shaky breath, holds her head up high, and heads down to the car.

xXx

"Arthur?" Leon pokes his head inside Arthur's office, knocking as he does so.

Arthur is frantically searching his office, looking for folders that Leon suspects are in his hands.

"What?" Arthur snaps, looking up. "Sorry, hey, Leon, what's goin' on?"

"Um… are you looking for these?" he asks quietly, holding his files.

"Why do you have my files?" Arthur asks, his face clouding.

Leon closes the door quietly behind him.

"Your father handed your case over to me. I… I thought you knew."

"He did _what?_"

"He kept me late last night and told me that I was to take this case. Said something about your having lost your objectivity with your client."

Arthur rakes his hand through his hair and sits. He leans forward, his elbows on his desk, and rubs his face, groaning. "Shit."

"I, um, just talked to her…"

Arthur peeks at Leon from between his fingers.

"She's a bit shocked."

"A bit?"

"A lot. I didn't get to talk to her too much, she—"

"She had to get to work. She teaches kindergarten at Lincoln." Arthur stands again, agitated, and starts pacing. "She's gonna be mad at me, I know it. She's gonna set her brother on me and I'll never walk again…"

"Arthur," Leon interrupts his ramblings, "is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Have you lost your objectivity with this girl?"

Arthur stops. He looks at the books on his massive bookshelf, covering one wall. "Maybe."

"You haven't fallen in love with her, have you?" Leon asks quietly.

Arthur's phone rings before he can answer. He looks at the clock, and for the first time he hopes that it's _not_ Guinevere on the phone.

"Arthur Pendragon," he answers.

"Ah. I was wondering when I'd be hearing from you. Hold on one moment, Aggy, I'm just going to pop you on speakerphone. As luck would have it, my associate Leon Winters happens to be in my office at the moment. He and I are both working on this case," Arthur says, looking meaningfully at Leon.

"…nder the understanding that it was only you," Aggy Boudreaux's voice pops out of the speakerbox, mid-sentence.

"Good morning, Aggy, and no, it's both of us now," Leon sits, setting the files back on Arthur's desk.

"I'm actually stepping back a bit into more of a second-chair position on this case now," Arthur explains. "Handing the reins over to someone with a bit more experience."

Leon nods. _I'm good with that,_ he seems to silently say to Arthur.

"Oh? Young Master Pendragon has bitten off more than he can chew, I see?" Aggy taunts.

"No, just willing to take the time to walk before I can run," Arthur says smoothly. "So what do we owe the dubious honor of a phone call from yourself?"

"I think you know perfectly well why I'm callin'. My client wants you to drop the charges. Says you ain't got a case against him or his company."

Arthur rolls his eyes.

"Of course he'd say that," Leon answers. "We got him backed into a corner and he knows it."

"If any of his employees testifies against him, they'll be fired. He wanted me to let y'all know."

"Then we can sue him again for wrongful termination," Leon answers.

"'Sides, we'd be able to find them jobs at companies that have _safe_ working environments 'fore they even knew they were out of a job," Arthur adds.

"So you're refusin' to drop the charges?"

"Yes," Leon says.

"You don't wanna run that by your client before you answer?" Aggy presses.

"No," Arthur answers this time.

Aggy pauses a beat. "Good. That's what I was hopin' for," he says, and they can practically _hear_ him leering on the other end.

"See you in court," Arthur says, and disconnects. He looks at Leon. "You ain't takin' this case all to yourself."

"I figured as much. I'm okay with that."

"There are some conditions I'm workin' with, here. First, if we don't win, Guinevere doesn't have to pay us."

"All right."

"Second, if we need to talk to Percy Andersen, Duncan Matthews, or Ezra Johnson, it has to be after hours so they don't have to take time off their jobs."

"Understandable. They do know they'll need to take time for the trial?"

"Yes. I'll call them tonight and give them the date."

"You all right, Arthur?" Leon asks. He can see that Arthur is still agitated.

"No. I need to have a few words with my father."

"Probably," Leon allows.

Arthur picks up his phone and dials.

"Hunith, is anyone with my father right now? Good. Thank you."

He hangs up the phone, reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out a thin file. He hands it to Leon. "You'll want to read this over. It wasn't with the rest."

"What is it?" Leon takes the file.

"Our ace in the hole. You can hang here if you want, I'm goin' to go yell at Pop for a few minutes."

Arthur heads to his door and he hears Leon open the file. As the door closes behind him, he hears Leon exclaim softly, "Holy shit…"

xXx

"Why did you give away my case?" Arthur yells, storming into his father's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Arthur, calm down…" Uther tries.

"I will not calm down! You took _my_ case and gave it to Leon without even telling me! Or my client! Do you know how unprofessional that looks?"

"About as unprofessional as how you sleeping with your client looks," Uther calmly replies.

"Excuse me?" Arthur says, his voice low. "I am not… wouldn't… I've only ever touched her _hand,_ for Christ's sake!" His voice rises in a crescendo as he speaks, and by the time he finishes, he is yelling.

_And her elbow,_ Uther thinks, remembering watching him usher her out the door the previous day. _Not important,_ he decides.

"Arthur, I saw the two of you yesterday, in your office. The way you looked at her, said her name…"

"Do you really think that's the kind of person I am?" Arthur shouts.

"Arthur—"

"Never mind that, do you really think that's the kind of girl _Guinevere_ is?"

_He's angrier for her than he is for himself. This is not good._ "No, Arthur, I don't. But I think that, given different circumstances, you would not hesitate to attempt to be… familiar… with this girl."

Arthur sits heavily in the chair facing his father's desk.

"I saw it with my own eyes, Arthur. You are smitten. No, don't bother denying it," he says quickly when Arthur opens his mouth to protest. "I had to remove you from the case, for your own good."

"So this is to keep us apart, then," Arthur says quietly, not believing his ears. "Is it because she's my client or is it because she's colored?" he asks suddenly.

Uther thinks a moment, weighing his words carefully. "A little of both, actually, but before you fly off the handle again, let me explain."

"I'm listening," Arthur says, his jaw clenched.

"Are you?" Uther raises his eyebrows at his son. Arthur relaxes slightly and Uther continues. "I don't believe I need to explain why I disapprove of your interest in her as a client," he says, leaning back in his chair. "But let me say first and foremost that I do like the girl. I can see why you like her. She's pretty, she's smart, and she's very strong. She has been through a lot and she still has spirit. Certainly seems to stand up to you without batting an eye," he chuckles.

"But…" Arthur prompts, waiting for _but she's colored_ to come out of his father's mouth.

"Under different circumstances, she would be very good for you," Uther continues. "Under different circumstances I would be doing everything in my power to see to it that you don't mess this relationship up like you've done so many others…"

"Not 'so many,' Pop. I've had maybe three girlfriends," Arthur interrupts.

Uther shrugs. "Not important. But the fact of the matter is, Arthur, she is negro and it's simply against the law."

"It's against the law to marry her, father, not date her," Arthur says. "That's just pretty severely frowned upon."

"Arthur, do you _want_ to marry her?" Uther challenges softly, leaning forward again.

Arthur sits quietly, thinking. _Do I? I honestly don't know. I know I really like her. I know I feel like Superman when she's with me, like I can do anything._ "I don't know," he finally says.

"Well, I suggest you figure out what your intentions are with this girl before diving headlong into something that could land you in jail, or worse. Do not just string this girl along if she is just a conquest. If you're only looking to bed a colored girl for the novelty of it…"

"Dad! I would never! Guinevere is a good, honest woman; the kindest, most wonderful person I've ever met, and I would _never…_"

"Ah, there we are," Uther says, his lips twitching into a rather sad half smile. "If you love her, do her the courtesy of not endangering her, Arthur."

"_If_ I love her, I will find a way to be with her," Arthur says, standing. "But I will not remove myself from this case. Leon and I have discussed it already. He is taking the lead and I will second chair, since you're worried about my objectivity."

"Very well," Uther sighs.

"Now I just have to convince Guinevere that I didn't bail on her," Arthur mutters, exiting his father's office.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur sits on his couch, listening to Gwen's phone ringing. Again. She had spoken to Leon earlier, briefly, but as soon as Arthur's name was mentioned, she made an excuse and got off the phone.

He hangs up. He's tried calling four times in the last hour and a half. She's either not home or is ignoring the phone, knowing he's trying to call.

_She should be mad. I don't blame her at all. I just wish I could explain. She wouldn't even hear Leon's explanation._

He looks at the phone again and sighs. Then he looks at the folders and papers on his table. He sorts through them until he finds what he is looking for.

Arthur puts on a pair of shoes and grabs his car keys.

Ten minutes later, he pulls up outside the address on Gwen's personal information form. He takes a deep breath and climbs out of his car.

_She lives upstairs. Does she have a separate door? I don't want to walk around the whole house; I'll look like a burglar. Better just try the front door._

He climbs the steps to the front porch and knocks.

A few moments later the door opens and he is face to face with Elyan.

_Oh, shit._

"Go away."

"Elyan, please, I'd really like to explain—"

"You're trespassin' on my property, Pendragon. Get off my porch."

"May I please talk to Guinevere?"

"No."

"You can chaperone."

"No."

"Elyan…"

"_No,_ Arthur. She don't want to talk to you."

"I just want to tell her—"

"What? That her case ain't good enough for you anymore? That you's just a coward that don't want to defend a colored girl 'cause it might hurt your reputation?"

"It wasn't my decision!" Arthur manages to get in. "I didn't know anything about it! In fact, Guinevere found out about it _before_ I did!" Arthur is nearly shouting now, his voice desperate.

"I'll tell her that. If she wants to talk to you, she'll call you," Elyan says coldly. Arthur wonders if she'll actually get the message, but he says nothing, choosing to trust his word for now.

"Let me give you my home phone number," Arthur says, fishing out a card on which he's already written his home number.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Elyan says. "She don't need to be callin' you at home."

"It's the weekend, Elyan. I'm not goin' to be in my office till Monday." He holds the card out towards Elyan.

"Then you wait till Monday," Elyan doesn't take the card.

"Please tell her I'm very sorry and that it was my father's doing. I didn't know. I swear on my mother's grave." The card hovers between them. "Please."

"Why's this so important to you?" Elyan asks suddenly.

"Because… because what happened ain't right. She shouldn't have to deal with this mess on top of everything else. It's just wrong. I'm tryin' to fix it."

"I'll tell her." He snatches the card resignedly.

"Thank you, Elyan. Have a good night."

xXx

_His lips are warm and soft against mine. His tongue, wet and probing, is delicious inside my mouth._

_ Our bodies are a tangle of limbs: soft, light brown against golden cream, twisted like a large, decadent cinnamon bun as we explore each other's bodies on a massive plush bed dressed in soft linens and pillows._

_ His lips trail along my skin, teasing my throat, sending chills down my spine as they trace the column of my neck, the lines of my collarbones, the swell of my breasts._

_ Chills and heat all at once; fire and ice, dark and light._

_ I want him to stop. I want him to never stop, ever. I want… him._

Guinevere wakes up Sunday morning in a tangle of sheets, warm. Overly warm. Warmer in some places than in others.

She slowly rises, blinking, images from the dream flashing through her brain, some hazy, some unsettling in their frank clarity.

"I'm supposed to be mad at him; why'm I havin' a dream like _that?_" she muses aloud.

In the bathroom mirror, she tells herself that she _definitely_ needs to go to church.

As she slips out the door to head out, she glances at the phone, which has been deafeningly silent since Friday evening.

"Give up so soon, Superman?" she sighs.

xXx

The lack of ringing from his phone is making Arthur very irritated. And dismayed. Saturday came and went with no phone call. That combined with yet another dream of which he only remembers flashes: taunting, fleeting bits, and Arthur's Sunday morning is rather morose.

He knows he should be a good boy and go to church. He knows that Guinevere is probably at church herself. But since he doesn't know what time her church's services are, he has resolved to stay in his apartment should she call.

He has also resolved that he is not going to try and call her. She's proven that she is not going to answer her phone. _As I suspected, she is stronger than I am._

Arthur looks at the clock again. _9:17. Merlin will still be sleeping, probably, but Hunith should be home by now, since she always goes to early mass._ He picks up the phone and dials their number.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Hunith, is Merlin up?"

"Oh, hello, Duckling! No, Merlin is still asleep, I'm afraid."

"Um, would you mind wakin' him up? I…"

"You need to talk to him, I know. I, um, heard you yellin' at your da Friday…"

"I know," he sighs. "Sorry 'bout that."

"It's all right, dear. Hold on a moment and I'll wake Merlin for you."

"You know what? Would you tell him to get up and come over?"

"Sure, Duckling."

A half an hour later, Arthur's door buzzes. He goes to the intercom on the wall.

"That had better be you," he says.

"It is," Merlin's voice comes up through the box.

Arthur presses the button to unlock the door downstairs, then pulls the knob on his door, leaving it slightly ajar so Merlin knows he can just come in.

_Like he ever knocks anyway._

Arthur flops on the sofa with a fresh cup of coffee just as Merlin strides through the door. He's got a brown paper bag in one hand and a thermos in the other.

"Merlin," Arthur says.

"Arthur. Mum told me what happened. She sent some scones." He holds up the bag.

Arthur smiles. "Hunith's solution to every problem: food."

Merlin laughs and shrugs.

"You sure she's not from the south?"

"Southern Ireland, maybe," Merlin chuckles, setting his things on the coffee table and walking to Arthur's kitchen for a mug.

He returns, opens the thermos, and pours his tea, still piping hot, into his mug. He's already poured a measure of milk into the mug. Arthur makes a face.

"I feel the same way about that coffee you're drinkin', mate," Merlin says, sipping his hot, milky, un-sweetened tea with a content smile on his face.

"I just prefer my tea cold and sweet," Arthur says.

"And I prefer my coffee, um, nonexistent."

"Gimme a scone."

"Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?" Merlin smirks at him and passes him the bag.

Arthur opens it and digs through until he finds one of the ones he wants. Hunith always makes some with chocolate chips in just for Arthur, saying that even though it's heresy, she'll do it for her Duckling.

Now Merlin makes a face as Arthur bites into his chocolate chip scone. "So she won't talk to you?"

"No," Arthur says, his mouth full. "I even went to her house Friday night. Was blocked by Elyan."

"O' course you were. Um, Arthur…"

"What?" Arthur asks, knowing full well what Merlin is about to ask.

"Is Uther right? About you? And her?"

"Care to be more specific?"

"Well, I know you're not… _doin'_ anything with her. But… _would_ you… if you could?"

Arthur sighs. "I said _more_ specific, Merlin. Honestly, you'd be a terrible lawyer."

"Well, you'd be a terrible jazz musician, so we're even. Do you like her?"

"Of course I like her, Merlin. She's a kind, intelligent, caring girl."

"Arthur, stop bein' obtuse."

Arthur blinks in surprise at Merlin's choice of words.

"I am educated, you know," Merlin snaps.

"Sorry. I…"

"Arthur, you know you can tell me anything. You know you can trust me."

"That's not the problem." Arthur stares into his coffee.

"Then what is the problem?"

"The problem is, if I admit it out loud, to you, then I have to face it myself!" Arthur yells, exasperated. He takes a long drink of his coffee, the hot bitter liquid burning his tongue and throat slightly, but he doesn't care. "I can't admit that… I feel more for her than I should because nothin' can happen!"

Merlin sighs, setting his tea on the table. "How do you know that nothing can happen?" he asks quietly.

"Merlin, I don't know what to do," Arthur says, his voice turning quiet. "I have feelings that I don't know what to do with. I like her. A lot. I'll admit it. If she was white, I'd buy her flowers, take her out to dinner. Maybe take her to a show. You know, court her up right and proper."

Merlin nods. "Never figured you to be a romantic," he grins.

Arthur thinks about throwing his scone at Merlin's head, but decides that would be a waste and takes a bite of it instead. "That's 'cause I haven't dated anyone since you've been here. Been too busy tryin' to establish myself as a lawyer."

"Right," Merlin says.

"Well, that and I haven't found anyone all that interestin' in a while," he allows.

"Vivian certainly fancies you," Merlin smirks.

"Guinevere pointed that out recently. I hadn't noticed, and I don't much care."

"Yeah, I don't think much goes on inside that pretty blonde head o' hers," Merlin chuckles. "So…" he indicates Arthur should continue.

"So… that's just the problem. I can't even take the time to get to know her, to find out if she's the one for me. I can't take her out and hold her hand and give her gifts and make her feel special. I can't kiss her and see if the fireworks go off inside my head. I can't do any of that… but…"

"But you want to?"

"_Desperately,_" Arthur admits, closing his eyes. "Even if it doesn't work out. I can't even try. Can't even find out if we even have a chance. We automatically don't have a chance because I'm white and she's colored. And that's…"

"Bloody frustrating," Merlin finishes.

"Fucking unfair," Arthur amends.

Merlin sits up straight in his chair, Arthur's strong language catching him off guard.

"It's ignorant and wrong and just… stupid. This whole fucking world is just so fucking stupid!" Arthur slumps in his chair, leaning back, looking at the ceiling.

"Arthur," Merlin says, his voice quiet, calm. Gentle. "You can still get to know her. You're working with her on this trial, right? So you have an excuse to spend time with her. Just… slip in personal bits from time to time."

"Our conversations already wander off-topic," Arthur admits. "She's really smart, Merlin. And quick; clever. I hear she got Gwaine speechless inside o' five minutes the other night."

"Yeah, I heard that, too. He couldn't stop talking about her," Merlin slips that last bit in just to needle him.

"What?" Arthur sits up straight now. To say he does not look amused would be an understatement.

"Oh, yeah, he was going on about how she was funny and pretty…"

"Merlin…"

"Look. You need to figure out if you want to be with Gwen or not, because Gwaine isn't nearly as careful with the rules as you, and he was awfully impressed with her. That's all I'm saying."

"You don't need to poke my jealousy, too, Merlin. I'm twisted up enough inside already."

"Sorry. But I thought you should know."

"Well, tell Gwaine she's off limits," he grumbles. He grabs a second scone. "Okay, genius, tell me: supposin' I decide that she _is_ the one for me. Supposin' I decide that I don't want to stay away from her. That I don't care about the rules because I _can't_ stay away from her. What then?"

"We find a way," Merlin says simply. "It might not be easy, or convenient, but if you're meant to be together, a way will present itself."

"Easy for you to say. She's still speakin' to you."

"Well, obviously, you'll need to fix _that_ first."

xXx

Arthur is distracted Monday. Leon notices, but knows better to say anything. Plus he knows why. It didn't take him long for him to figure out that Uther was indeed correct about Arthur and his feelings for their client. It is as clear as day if you even half pay attention.

They work on planning their strategy for the trial, the order of the witnesses they want to call, when to spring what bits of evidence or information. Leon was in complete agreement that they need to beat Aggy to the punch, operate on the offensive with sensitive details, exposing them themselves and spinning them to their advantage.

Arthur's constant clock-watching after lunch starts to get to Leon, and finally he sets his pen down and looks at him.

"Just go," he sighs.

"What?"

"It's 2:30. She's done with school in fifteen minutes." Leon looks at him pointedly.

Arthur is surprised. He knows Leon fairly well, but he wasn't sure about how the other man felt about this whole _situation_ that he suddenly found himself thrust into.

"Really?"

"We won't get anywhere with this case if she won't speak to you, Arthur," he sighs.

"Oh. Right."

"Plus, I'm tired of lookin' at your mopey face."

Arthur actually laughs. He gets up and leaves the office, patting Leon on the shoulder as he passes.

Arthur drives to Gwen's house to wait for her. He pulls up and sees Tom's Impala still parked in the driveway. He does not see Elyan's truck anywhere.

_Thank God for that._ He gets out of his car, and walks up to the house. _Is she home already?_ He looks at his watch. 2:42. _She's not even done with school yet._

Arthur stands on the sidewalk, thinking. _Dummy. She probably walks to school. It's just up the street._ He looks at his car, then decides to leave it there.

He hears the school bell ringing as he approaches. He decides to stay hidden, not wanting to embarrass her or draw undue attention, but he also doesn't want to look like a criminal, skulking in the shadows. He opts for leaning against a tree. He hopes he looks casual.

Arthur watches, looking for her familiar shape, listening for her voice, her laugh. He spies her finally, exiting the school, talking with another teacher, an older woman, taller and heavier. He can see even from a distance that her smile is a mask over her own hurt, and it makes his heart ache.

A few minutes later he sees her approaching, walking quickly and purposefully. She is wearing a light green sleeveless dress and black heels. Her hair is pinned up and she has a bag full of books on her shoulder. _She looks adorable._

She strides right past him, not even glancing his way.

"I'm not talkin' to you," she says, hearing his footsteps behind her.

"Guinevere…"

"Don't use that Superman tone with me, _Mr. Pendragon._ I'm not listenin' to it today. And stop followin' me."

_I wasn't aware I was using my Superman voice. I only said her name,_ Arthur puzzles over this tidbit. "I'm not followin' you. I just happen to be walkin' the same direction."

"Well, walk on the other side of the street, then."

"Did Elyan give you my message?"

She stops. "What?"

"I came by Friday night. I talked to Elyan. He didn't tell you?"

"I haven't seen him much," she says quietly. "He's been makin' himself scarce, and I've been hidin' in my apartment."

"And not answering your phone," Arthur adds, stepping up beside her now, turning his head to look at her down-turned face.

She starts walking again. "Not that you've tried to call since Friday night," she mutters.

"I left my home number with Elyan."

"And what else was he supposed to tell me?"

"That it was my father that gave my case to Leon. That I didn't know about it. That you actually found out Leon was given your case _before_ I did."

Gwen says nothing, knowing he wouldn't lie to her, but not knowing what to say to this apart from "why?" and she's not sure she's ready to face that answer yet. She stops walking when she sees an unfamiliar car parked outside her house. A very nice car.

"I gave him a business card that I wrote my home phone number on. He was supposed to give it to you with the message."

"He didn't. That your car?" She points to the red Corvette Stingray at the curb.

He nods.

"It's a nice car. Too nice for this neighborhood," she says, looking around.

"Guinevere, I really want to talk to you."

"We're talkin' now."

"No, what I mean is I _need_ to talk to you. About the case, kinda."

"Kinda?"

"About why my father felt the need to take me off of it."

"…All right…" she says, hesitantly, sighing heavily. "But I ain't havin' you in my house alone. The neighbors are peekin' already."

"Then come to Gwaine's with me. We can talk there. It's practically become my second office anyway."

"I need to go inside first, put this away," she indicates her bag.

"I'll wait here." He leans against his car.

Ten minutes later, Gwen emerges, her hair now back in a low ponytail, white tennis shoes on her feet, and a piece of paper clutched in her hand.

"He made a half-assed attempt," she says, showing Arthur the paper.

_Blonde Mr. Charlie stopped over. Says his daddy gave away the case + he didn't know. Wants you to call him. _ The business card is taped to the paper with a piece of silver duct tape.

"I found it on the kitchen table. _His_ kitchen table, not mine," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "I don't know if he left it there thinking I would see it or if he forgot to bring it up. Either one's possible."

"Are you down there much?" he asks, handing the paper back to her.

"Depends. He likes me to make him dinner. I do sometimes, but not always, 'cause I'm not his mama, his wife, or his maid. But like I said, he's been makin' himself scarce lately." She tucks the note into her purse. "Wonder why?" she adds sarcastically.

"Hmm. Doesn't matter now, I guess," Arthur says, bending to open the passenger door of his car for Gwen.

She looks at it, then him. _Get in,_ she tells herself. Then she drops down and into the low car.

"So much for not goin' to a tavern with a white man," she mutters while Arthur makes his way around to his door.

xXx

"It must be my lucky day," Gwaine comments, smiling at Gwen.

"Don't count on it, Gwaine," Arthur shoots, giving Gwaine what he hopes is a meaningful glare.

He ushers Gwen to a table in the corner, holding her chair for her while she sits.

"Thank you," she mutters, setting her purse on the table. It is early, so there aren't many people there yet and it is relatively quiet.

Arthur waves at Gwaine, indicating he wants some drinks for them.

"So, what, am I just supposed to guess, then?" Gwaine yells across the barroom.

Arthur sighs and rolls his eyes. "What would you like to drink, Guinevere?" he asks.

"Just some water. Unless he has lemonade."

"I'll find out. Knowing him, he'll start squeezin' lemons special, just for you. I'll be right back," he says, standing again.

"Usual for me," Arthur tells Gwaine. "Do you have lemonade?"

"No, but I can make some quick if that's what Miss Gwen wants," Gwaine grins.

"She said water was fine if you didn't have any," Arthur says pointedly.

"Here," Gwaine plunks a bottle of Dr. Pepper down on the bar for Arthur and fixes a tall glass of icewater for Gwen. Arthur tosses a few coins on the bar and takes the drinks back.

"I was right. He was ready to go whip you up some lemonade," Arthur says, setting her glass in front of her.

"So… um…" he hesitates now, taking a long drink of his soda. Gwen inspects her fingernails and takes a delicate sip of her water.

"He did put a lemon in the water, at least," she says quietly, smirking.

"Worth something, I guess," Arthur says. He laces his fingers together and sets them on the table in front of him. _Talk, dummy. _ "Guinevere, like I said, my father felt the need to pass your case over to Leon. I've talked to him, and as you know, I've talked to Leon. Leon and I are both taking your case now, as… as Leon already told you, and actually it's probably a good thing, because Leon has a few years more experience than me, and so this is actually a good thing… for… for me, I guess… help me learn to walk before I can run…"

"Arthur, you're rambling," Gwen says, but her tone is gentle.

"I know. I'm tellin' you things you already know." He runs his hand through his hair, and Gwen watches the golden strands as they lift and fall back, almost exactly in place.

_His hair looks very soft,_ she finds herself thinking, wondering what it would feel like if she were to run her fingers through it like that. _Stop it._

"Um, the reason Pop pulled me from your case is, well, because he thought that you and I were… um… sleeping together."

Gwen's eyes widen. "Where did he get that idea?" she asks. "You haven't been anything but a gentleman, and I _know_ I haven't…"

Arthur holds up his hands. "It's all right, Guinevere, I've set him straight. He just… when he met you last week in my office, he just interpreted some of our actions a certain way, and drew some conclusions."

"I see," she says. _What actions?_

"Do you? You look confused."

"I guess I just don't see which actions he could have interpreted to lead him to the conclusion that I was welcomin' you into my bed."

"I don't either. Not really," he admits.

Gwen angles her head at him.

"He's not entirely wrong, Guinevere. I have lost whatever shred of objectivity I had when it comes to you."

"Oh," she says, lifting her glass again. She sets it down and drops her hand on the table.

"I've come to realize… well, rather I've allowed myself to admit that… I… I care for you more than I should. As your lawyer."

"And as a white man," she says, unable to look at him.

"That, too. Which is the worst part of it."

She nods slowly, her fingers idly picking at a spot on the table. Arthur reaches forward with his hand and hesitantly touches hers. Her fingers still immediately and her eyes fly to his.

No one breathes. Arthur strokes the skin on the back of her hand once, feather-light, then hastily withdraws his hand.

"Sorry," he says, blowing a long breath of air out before downing the rest of his Dr. Pepper.

But the damage is done. Gwen sits blinking, stunned at what one single, fleeting touch stirred within her.

_Why did you do that, man? Now you know. Now you know that her skin feels like velvet. You saw her holding her breath. You saw the color rise in her cheeks. You saw her eyes darken. You saw the fireworks in your head and you didn't even kiss her!_

"If this is all one-sided, if you don't have any feelings at all, just tell me now and I'll maintain a professional distance," Arthur finally says, softly.

Gwen hesitates, knowing that the next words she says could potentially change the course of her life permanently. She looks at his face, at the longing in his eyes. "I wish I could. I wish I could say that I don't feel anything past friendship for you. I wish I could lie to you and tell you that I don't care about you, that I don't dream about you at night. I wish I'd never met you, sometimes. Other times I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You dream about me?"

She nods, looking at her fingers. "Can't control what we dream about."

"I know that all too well," he says. She looks up to see him actually blushing, and she knows immediately that she has been visiting his dreams as well.

"What is it you want, Arthur?"

"I want…" _You._ "I want to get to know you better. I want the chance to find out if… if you and I…"

"We can't, Arthur," she says, squeezing her eyes shut, pinching back tears.

Those three words feel like a hot knife stabbing Arthur in his belly.

"I know."

"It may be dangerous for us to even be friends," she says.

"I know. Every time I think about you, I know that if the wrong people knew what my thoughts were you could be hurt. Or worse. If you think about someone like young Emmit Till, and all he did was talk to a white woman…"

"I'd like to think that we have come _some_ ways since then," Gwen says.

"It was only eight years ago," Arthur says. "But you're right. And this ain't Mississippi," he allows.

"You're not entirely safe, either, you know," she says. "I do have a brother."

He exhales heavily. "I remember," he nods.

They actually laugh a little, the tension momentarily broken.

"Would you at least have a bite to eat with me, here, on neutral ground?" Arthur asks. "Even if it's just this once. Merlin should be here soon, too. We can listen to him play. We don't even have to talk about anything important. Or anything at all."

His face is so earnest and sweet that Gwen cannot say no. "All right. I'd like to see what all the fuss is about with Gwaine's fried chicken, you know," she grins.


	8. Chapter 8

"This is good, but I was right, mine is better," Gwen declares, delicately picking at her chicken.

"I just find that very hard to believe," Arthur says. "Because this is the best chicken I've ever had."

"You're going to keep that up until I make chicken for you, aren't you?"

He just grins and takes a bite of macaroni and cheese, the side dish du jour.

"So Arthur, were you just… waiting around your house all weekend for me to call?"

"Well, apartment, actually. And yes. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Okay, exactly," he admits.

"I thought only teenage girls did that."

"Teenage girls and stupid lawyers."

"You're not completely stupid," she says, taking a drink of the lemonade that Gwaine delivered with the chicken.

"Oh, well, thank you," he says, raising his eyebrows.

"Your father is _partly_ to blame."

"Yes, but if you weren't so wonderful, I wouldn't be so…"

"Stop," she says, holding up her hand.

"Sorry."

"Where did you go to school?" She changes the subject.

"Harvard," he says, chewing.

"Ooo," she says, mock-impressed.

"Well, Pop went there, you know. He's actually from Boston."

"I could tell he wasn't from here," she says.

"By his accent?"

"That and his attitude."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about important things," Arthur smiles at her. He really wants to take her hand in his again, even if her fingers are slick with chicken grease.

"So tell me about Harvard, then. Did it get very cold there in the winter? Were you in one o' those fraternities? Did you play any sports? Did you have any… girlfriends?"

"I played football," he says, choosing to answer only one of the questions.

Gwen perks up immediately. "Really?"

"In high school, too."

"What position?"

"Guess."

"Quarterback, obviously," she smirks at him.

"Why is that obvious?"

"Am I right?"

"Well, yes, but why is it obvious?"

"Because you…"

"Always have to be in charge and you like to tell people what to do," Merlin interrupts, finishing her sentence. He pulls a chair over and plops down on it.

"That's not what I was goin' to say!" Gwen laughs.

It's a wonderful sound, and Arthur simply watches her, smiling fondly.

"I know, but my answer was more accurate," Merlin grins. Gwen gives him a chicken leg. "Thanks."

"What I was going to say is that Arthur is a natural leader. He has that… charisma that make people want to listen to him. That's why it was obvious that he was quarterback."

"I like her answer better," Arthur declares, grinning smugly. "You like football, Guinevere?"

"I love football," she says, surprising both men completely. "Daddy and I used to watch the Cardinals every Sunday." She smiles wistfully now.

"My favorite team," Arthur says.

Merlin makes a face.

"You don't like football, Merlin?" Gwen asks.

"I like football fine. You Yanks call it soccer, though. It's just that American football is like… rugby for girls."

"Not this again…" Arthur sighs, looking at the ceiling. He catches Gwaine's eye across the bar and sees the bartender laughing.

"What exactly is rugby?" Gwen asks, curious.

"It's like your football, except without all the silly padding."

"And they can't pass the ball forward," Arthur adds.

"Then how do they advance the ball?"

"A lot of running," Arthur says.

"Irish! Let's go!" Aaron's voice interrupts them, and Merlin stands.

"Good seeing you, Gwen," he says. "And I'm glad you're speaking to him again. He was—"

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur says cutting him off.

"Right." Merlin heads off to the piano.

Gwen and Arthur resume their conversation, very carefully avoiding any topic that has any depth or substance. Gwen still notes the way his eyes track her movements, how he watches her like she is the only woman in the room.

Arthur can't help but notice how Gwen's eyes drop coyly when he says something nice to her, how she seems to listen to him like every word he says is the most interesting thing she's ever heard.

Gwen laughs again as Arthur tells her about his string of bad fortune involving college roommates, and she finds herself tucking a stray curl behind her ear, glancing down and then back up at him, even licking her lips.

_Dear Lord, I'm flirting with him._ She stops laughing quite suddenly.

"Guinevere, is something wrong?" Arthur asks, furrowing his brow.

"No… no, I'm fine," she says, quickly taking a drink of her lemonade.

"Are you sure? Dinner not agreeing with you?"

"No, it's very good. I'm just…"

"We're goin' back to serious topics again, aren't we?"

"Maybe. It's foolishness, really…"

"What is it?" He's really curious now.

"I think I caught myself flirtin' just now, that's all," she admits quietly.

"Oh, is that all? I was rather enjoyin' that."

"Oh!" she huffs, "You…" Gwen presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. _How is it he can do that to me?_ She tosses her napkin on her plate, having stopped eating fifteen minutes ago.

"Don't be embarrassed, Guinevere. You didn't do anything wrong. No one's lookin' but me."

"It was just a surprise, that's all." She pushes her chair back slightly. "Excuse me a minute. I need to, um, powder my nose."

"Of course," Arthur stands when she stands, watching her walk over to the restroom.

_She left her purse here, so she's not going to run off._ He waves Gwaine over to take their plates.

"What's goin' on with you two?" Gwaine asks.

"Like you haven't been listenin' the whole time," Arthur answers sarcastically.

"Wouldn't have thought you'd take a risk like that. No matter how pretty she is."

"I know, I'm monumentally stupid, but I can't help it," Arthur sighs.

"I can't say's I blame ya," Gwaine says. "Good luck, man." He pats Arthur's shoulder and leaves with their dishes heaped on a tray.

Gwen returns, and she notices the bar is significantly busier now. Merlin is playing, this time backed up by Aaron on the drums and another man on the bass, presumably the Fred that was mentioned last time she was here.

She grabs her chair and drags it around the table to sit beside Arthur now, facing the stage to watch Merlin play.

"Nose all powdered?" Arthur asks.

"And a few other things seen to, yes," she answers, and Arthur laughs.

She sits next to him and immediately the air changes around them again, the lightness gone. Arthur sits stiffly, wanting nothing more than to put his arm around her and pull her close, coax her head down to rest on his shoulder.

Gwen either senses his uneasiness or feels some of her own, and scoots her chair away a few inches.

"Thank you," Arthur says, smiling a bit sadly now.

xXx

They pull up to Gwen's house over an hour later and see something amiss immediately. Vaguely Arthur notices a lone figure running away and disappearing

"Oh, dear Lord," Gwen says, her voice shaky.

Arthur stares for a moment at the two ugly red words spray painted across the front of her house. Movement catches his attention and he nearly leaps from his car, his sharp eyes fixed on another car, driving away at a suspiciously fast speed.

Gwen is out now, too, still shaken. Arthur turns to her, says, "I need to use your phone _now,_" and starts running towards the house. Gwen high-tails it behind him, and as she comes up the steps, he stops her. "Be careful, Guinevere, there's glass all over up here."

Gwen looks and sees that her windows have been broken as well. Numb, she fishes her keys out and hands them to Arthur with trembling hands, not trusting herself to fit the key into the lock.

Arthur ushers her in inside, wandering through to the kitchen. He picks up the phone and dials a number from memory, fingers spinning the dial as fast as they can.

"Jim," he says after a moment, "Arthur Pendragon. I need you to put an APB out on a car immediately. A battered blue 1960 Plymouth Belvidere with a bad muffler and a broken tail light, license plate starts with the numbers 256."

He pauses, waiting while the police officer relays the information. "Oh, sorry, 10th and Roosevelt, heading east on Roosevelt."

"What? Don't worry about that. Just tell them."

"Vandalism," he declares, "pretty certain he spray painted some hateful words on a fr— I mean a client's house. Broke a couple windows, too."

_He almost called me his friend just there,_ Gwen notes absently.

"Jim, if you catch him now, you'll get him while he still has paint on his hands and empty spray cans in his trunk. Call me when you get him."

Arthur looks at Gwen, his face a question. She quickly scribbles a number on a scrap of paper and passes it across the table to him. "555-7231," he says, then hangs up.

He sits at the table beside Gwen. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, reaching for her hand, then retracting it.

"It's not your fault, Arthur," she says, sighing shakily.

"Where's your brother?"

"Out," she shrugs. "Lord only knows." Her face is closed, tight, her eyes wide and glassy.

"Guinevere, you can let it out," he says, his voice impossibly soft. "It's only me. You don't have to be brave for me."

"I… I just… I don't… I _never_… just, why?" she says, her mind a jumble of confused thoughts.

"I don't ever presume to understand the actions of others," Arthur says. "One thing I learned quickly when I joined my dad's practice. They'll get him, Guinevere. And if it doesn't have anything to do with your case, I'll… I'll eat that dishtowel." He points to a plaid towel hanging neatly on the oven door.

Gwen smiles a weak smile and wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold in the warm night.

In the distance, they hear a police siren, and Arthur makes a decision. He stands and reaches his hand down to her, much like he did the first time they met. Gwen stares at it, and then at him.

"May I?" he asks. His voice is calm and polite, a true southern gentleman, but his eyes are pleading with her.

Saying nothing, she puts her hand in his and allows him to pull her to her feet and slowly, gently, carefully into his arms. He places his arms around her narrow back, one near her shoulder, one just above her waist.

Gwen is tense at first, but then the dam breaks. One sob escapes, then two, and she melts into his chest, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt as she cries. Arthur wishes he could do more. The fingers of his right hand twitch, wanting to move up and plunge themselves into her soft curls, to cradle her head against his chest while she weeps.

"Shh, it will be all right. We'll fix it, I promise," he whispers, fighting the urge to place his cheek on the top of her head, to breathe in her honeysuckle fragrance.

They stand together for several long moments, Gwen allowing herself to be soothed by Arthur's embrace.

_I've never felt so safe,_ she realizes, and the realization gives her pause. She looks up at him now to find him gazing down at her, his face worried and, she realizes, a little angry as well.

_Is he angry for me?_ "Arthur," she whispers, suddenly acutely aware of how close he is, how warm and comforting. _"He's not entirely wrong, Guinevere. I have lost whatever shred of objectivity I had when it comes to you."_ His words drift back into her mind as her eyes meet his for a moment before dropping unbidden to rest on his lips.

_"I care for you more than I should."_

Gwen's own lips part as she tries to find some air in the kitchen, and she realizes that she is lifting up on tiptoe, bringing her face closer to his, just as he is lowering his head to hers.

The harsh ringing of the phone snaps them back to earth and Arthur releases her, clearing his throat awkwardly, so she can answer the phone. He looks at his shoes and rakes his hand through his hair. She swipes her hand across her face, wiping away the remnants of her tears.

"Hope that's the police," she mutters, smoothing her dress nervously. "Hello? Yes, one moment." She hands the phone to Arthur, turning to the cabinet to get some glasses and some distance.

"Jim," Arthur says immediately. "All right," he says, nodding. Gwen looks at him and he smiles. "Got him," he tells her.

"Who? Even better! This will only help the case I'm working on now. Get him to talk. Find out who put him up to it."

"Yes, I'm sure someone did, and I probably know who. Send a copy of the report to my office tomorrow. And don't let that son of a bitch out, even if Alined brings a wheelbarrow full of money to the station."

_Alined?_ Gwen thinks, setting two glasses of sweet tea on the table for them.

"What? No, actually. Leave him. I may be able to twist this to our advantage."

"Thanks, Jim. I owe you one. What? Oh, then we're square, ain't we?" he says, hanging up the phone.

"Dennis Trickler," Arthur declares, turning back to Gwen. "Name should be familiar."

"Of course. Daddy always said he was a right pain in the… well, you know. And other choice phrases that are not fit to be said by a lady."

"Alined's little toady. No doubt acting on Big Boss Man's orders. Trying to scare you away."

Gwen picks up a glass and passes it to Arthur.

"Thank you," he says and drinks. "Good Lord, this is the best sweet tea I've ever had. What do you do to it?"

"That'd be tellin'," she says, smiling now.

"There. A smile. That's what I like to see. Tell you what: I'll have my dad get his people over here first thing tomorrow morning to paint over that ignorant mess and fix your windows. Least we can do."

"Thank y—"

"What the _fuck?_" Elyan's angry roar greets them now, followed by the slam of a screen door.

"Gwen! Gwen, you here? You all right?" he shouts, storming back.

"Back here, Elyan," she calls.

Elyan appears in the doorway, his face a mask of rage. He sees Arthur sitting at his table, drinking sweet tea, and it pulls him up short.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"Oh, so suddenly the front of the house is less important?" Gwen snaps, saying a silent prayer of thanks that Elyan didn't arrive five minutes earlier. _At least we've had time to recover from… whatever that was._

"What happened?" he asks.

"Arthur gave me a ride home and when we got here, _that_ greeted us," she says, handing him her tea and going to fix herself another.

"Gave you a ride home from where?" he asks suspiciously.

"We were discussing the case at Gwaine's," Arthur supplies. It's not a complete truth, but it's not a complete lie, either. "I told you my father gave it to Leon without my knowledge," he reminds Elyan, who looks away guiltily. "But one crisis at a time, here," Arthur says. "The police have got the vandal and his actions are only going to help our case against Alined."

"Huh? How's that?"

"If I was a bettin' man, I'd wager that Alined is responsible for the new paint job outside."

"And the broken windows," Gwen supplies. "It was Trickler, Elyan."

"That piece of cracka shit," Elyan mutters, taking a long drink of his tea.

"Accurate description," Arthur says, and Elyan actually laughs. "And, so you and I are clear, I am still working on your case. And so is Leon. I talked to Pop, and I talked to Guinevere, and we cleared everything up." He glances at Gwen now and she meets his eye for a very brief moment before looking at her brother.

"If Arthur hadn't been here, they wouldn't have gotten Trickler," she tells him. "He spotted the car, even got some of the license plate number. How did you do that?" she asks Arthur.

"Do what?"

"Get such a good description of the car. I would have gotten as far as 'blue,' and maybe the broken tail light."

Arthur shrugs. "Street lights help. I know cars. And I pay attention. You have to in my line of work."

"Thank you," Elyan mutters, reaching his hand out now. Arthur takes it and shakes it briefly.

"We cool?" he asks.

"We cool," Elyan says. He looks towards the front of the house. "But now I gotta fix that," he sighs.

"Um, Arthur said he'd have some men come over in the morning to take care of it," Gwen says softly.

"Why? I can take care of my house!" Elyan protests.

"Elyan, we can't afford for you to stay here and fix our house when you should be out working payin' jobs," Gwen says.

"My father has people. They'll have this mess gone in less than a day. After I take some pictures for evidence, of course," Arthur says. "I know you are capable of doing it, Elyan. But this vandalism was a direct result of our investigations, so…"

"I don't want to be beholdin' to no man," Elyan says.

"You won't be. We're simply fixin' what we caused."

Gwen smiles into her glass. _He is smart, I'll give him that. Almost as smart as he is handsome._ She lets that last thought sink in for a moment, wondering where it came from. She stares into her tea, watching the ice cubes swirl as she jostles her glass. Then she yawns.

"Goodness, it's late, isn't it?" Arthur says. He drains his glass and stands, setting the glass in the sink. "I should go."

"I'll walk you out," Gwen says, setting her glass on the counter to usher him to the door.

"Thank you again, Arthur. I don't know what I would have done if I had come home to find this alone, or, God forbid, if I had been here when it happened."

"You would have called the police and then you would have called me," Arthur states authoritatively.

"Always so sure about everything, ain't you, Superman?" Gwen shakes her head, smiling a little.

"Not always," he answers, his voice in that soft, low timbre again.

"Arthur…"

"We don't need to talk about it Guinevere," he says. "Nothing happened."

"Because the phone rang."

"So you would have let me…?"

Gwen closes her eyes and nods, unable to look at his face when it looks so open and vulnerable like it does right now. She hears him sigh, almost a groan. She imagines he runs his hand through his soft blonde hair again.

"I'll be back in the morning to take pictures," he finally says.

She opens her eyes again. "All right."

"You're okay? You'll be all right tonight?"

"Yes," she says with a sigh. "I tell you, the least he could have done is _spelled_ it correctly," she says dryly. "'Uppity' has two Ps."

Arthur chuckles now and fights the very strong urge to pull her back into his arms. "There's my girl," he mutters quietly. Then he turns on his heel and almost runs down the steps and to his car.

xXx

"Right, good. Thanks, Jim, we'll be in this afternoon, then," Arthur says, hanging up the phone.

"Singing like a canary and ready to deal," he grins at Leon.

"Cowards always are," Leon answers. "So he's agreed, then?"

Arthur nods.

"You think Gwen will go for it?"

"Yes, I think she will. She's supposed to call on her lunch."

"How's the house lookin'?"

"I drove past on my way to work. Windows were already fixed, and they're actually repaintin' the whole thing."

Arthur had been to Gwen's house early Tuesday morning, right behind the workmen. He took some photos before they started working while she picked out paint colors.

"You're not goin' to ask Elyan for his opinion?" Arthur asked, sauntering up.

"Elyan is no help at all pickin' colors. As long as he has a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in, I could have this house painted pink."

"Somehow I doubt that," Arthur laughed.

"That'll be nice for them," Leon muses.

"It was lookin' pretty good," Arthur nods. "They should have it all done by tomorrow, I would think."

"We need to call Percy," Leon reminds him, pointing to the phone.

xXx

Tuesday evening, Arthur, Leon, Gwen, Duncan, Ezra and Percy all meet in a conference room at Pendragon Law.

They'd sent Merlin for food, and when he returned, he stayed, stating he told Gwaine that he wasn't playing till later because he wanted to be here.

"All right," Arthur says, "the trial starts Friday afternoon. As you know. I got it bumped later in the day so y'all could still at least work half the day."

"Thanks," they all mutter. They're nervous.

"Now, testifyin' in a court of law can be scary, I know."

"Have you ever testified in a court o' law, Arthur?" Duncan asks.

"Um, no… but if it's anywhere near as terrifyin' as arguing a case in a court o' law, then I can relate," he says, grinning.

"He's kiddin', Duncan, he ain't terrified o' nothin'," Gwen mutters.

_She has such confidence in me._

"'Sides, I'm goin' to be the one doin' most of the talkin'," Leon points out, smirking at Arthur.

"Yes, well, there is that," Arthur allows.

"So tonight, we'd like to talk about our plan. Give y'all some pointers for bein' up there."

They all nod, understanding.

"Most important thing is to be yourself up there. Don't be tryin' to put on airs or any kind of act. Y'all are good, decent people just as you are, and we want that to shine through."

"So you're sayin' that we _shouldn't_ try to… talk like white people, if you get my meanin'?"

"Absolutely not," Arthur answers. "We want you to be you. If you're fakin' anything, it'll show."

"Right," Leon agrees. He turns to Ezra now. "Ezra, I know you're still workin' through some things, and this is goin' to sound awful for me to say, but for this case, that's good. Don't be brave up there. If you feel overcome, just ask for a minute to collect yourself. The more genuine your emotions are, the better. I'm afraid that this might be very hard on you."

Ezra nods. He looks tired. Gwen had told Arthur earlier that Duncan had told her that Ezra had been having nightmares.

"Jack Aredian is going to testify on our behalf as well," Arthur says, looking at Percy, who nods.

"Why ain't he here, then?" Duncan asks.

"He's been down this road before, plenty o' times," Arthur says. "He doesn't need this little pep talk."

"He was a character and a half, that man," Duncan says, thinking back to the most bizarre morning he'd had in a long time.

"A character?" Arthur asks, surprised.

"Well, meanin' he had no personality at all, o' course," Duncan chuckles.

"Right. So Aredian will be…" he looks at his notes. "Third. Duncan, we'd like you to go first. Give an overview of the warehouse operations. Mention the repair requests. A lot."

Duncan nods.

"Then Ezra will be next, to tell what happened," Leon says.

"No gettin' 'round it, I reckon," Ezra comments quietly.

"You'll do just fine," Gwen reassures him, patting his hand comfortingly.

"Then we'll bring in Aredian," Arthur grins.

"There is every possibility that Aggy Boudreaux is going to have some questions of his own," Leon says. "He's going to try to trip you up, make you say things you don't mean, try to rattle your cages."

Leon looks levelly at them. "Do not let him rattle you. He's nothin' but a big blowhard and if he's resortin' to trickery, that means he doesn't have a case."

"Stay cool, in other words," Merlin chimes in from his place, perched on the sideboard.

"Exactly."

Arthur and Leon go over a few more details, and they all stand to leave. Arthur puts his hand on Percy's arm as Leon ushers the rest outside. "You'll get them tomorrow?" he asks.

Percy nods. "Did you make that other call?"

"I called, but had to leave a message. I'm hoping to hear from him tomorrow."

"Good," Percy says, his face grim.

"You all right with all this? I know you said you have no love for Alined, but…"

"I'm fine," Percy cuts him off. "Well, no, I'm _not_ fine, but it's not because I'm turning my back on a man who I am unfortunate enough to share some blood with."


	9. Chapter 9

"Arthur Pendragon."

"Mr. Pendragon? My name is Keith Godwin. I was given a somewhat illuminating message yesterday…"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Godwin. I have some information that you might find _very_ illuminating," Arthur says, leaning back in his chair. "What are your plans for this weekend, may I ask?"

Over lunch, Arthur's phone rings again. "Arthur Pendragon," he answers, his mouth full of hamburger.

"Arthur?" Percy's hesitant voice greets him.

Arthur swallows. "Sorry. Been eatin' lunch in my office these days, since that's usually when you or Guinevere calls me. You caught me with a mouth full o' burger."

"Sorry," Percy chuckles. "I got 'em. Waited till Alined went to lunch, since he always goes out on Wednesdays, and they were right where he said they'd be."

"And they're how we expect?"

"Yup."

"Good. Oh, I got called back this morning."

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm. Everything's all set. You're safe."

"Thank you, Arthur, really. I was pretty worried, you know."

"I know. Call your mama tonight, Percy."

"I'll do that."

xXx

"Hello?" Arthur answers his phone Thursday night. It's nearly nine, and his phone rarely rings this late.

"Arthur?"

"Guinevere," he says, smiling.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"It's not even nine," Arthur says. Then he grins into the phone. "I'm allowed to stay up till eleven if I eat all my dinner, you know."

"Don't be usin' my own words against me, now, Superman," she snaps back, but he can hear the smile in her voice.

_I'm beginning to love it when she calls me that._ "What's on your mind?"

She pauses. "I'm scared."

"I know," he says. "I am, too."

"You are?"

"Scout's honor."

"Why should you be scared?"

"Lots o' reasons. I'm scared 'cause this is my first big trial, even though Leon's doin' most of the work now. I'm scared 'cause I don't know what kind of shit Boudreaux is goin' to try and pull. And most of all, I'm scared 'cause if we fail, then I'll have failed you, Guinevere. And I don't think I could live with that."

"That's a lot to be scared of," she says after a moment, choosing file his last statement under _Deal With that Later._ "I'm mostly scared for Duncan and Ezra. Especially Ezra. I think he should talk to someone. Like a doctor or somethin'. And I know you said that you weren't going to call me to the stand, but what if Boudreaux does?"

"Then you go up there and be your normal charming and beautiful self, and most importantly, do not let him make you nervous."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Gwen says quietly.

"Like what?"

"You said I was charming and beautiful."

"Well, you are."

"Even if that's true, I wish you wouldn't."

"Sorry."

"I mean, thank you, but… it just does funny things to me when you say things like that," she admits.

"And the last thing you need right now is more stress," Arthur realizes. "I don't mean to… make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. I'll try to… rein it in."

"I don't know if I should say thank you or tell you not to."

"Well, I don't even realize I'm doin' it most of the time, so I can't really make any promises," Arthur says.

Gwen just sighs, and Arthur can tell if it's a sigh of contentment or exasperation.

"Is Elyan coming tomorrow?"

"I think so. He ain't home right now."

"He goes out a lot."

"I think he doesn't like bein' home because it reminds him of Daddy. His absence is very loud for him, I think."

"Are all of Tom's things still there?"

"Some. We gave his clothes to Duncan to give out to anyone who needed them at the warehouse. I told Elyan he should redecorate, or at least move the furniture around. Make the place his now."

"That's good advice," Arthur nods.

"Yeah, but honestly I don't know if I'd be able to make that step myself. It's easy for me to sit up here in my own space and tell him what he should do, but if I was in his place, would I be any better, I wonder?"

Arthur smiles sadly. "You're very smart, Guinevere."

"Stop complimenting me, Arthur."

"Sorry."

"I should let you go. Sleep well."

"You, too. Try to get some rest, Guinevere."

_Dream of me._

xXx

"Is this all right?" Gwen asks outside the courtroom. She is dressed in a simple lavender sleeveless dress with a matching pillbox hat on her head. Her hair is gathered into a very dignified bun at her nape.

"Perfect," Arthur smiles. "Mrs. Kennedy would be envious."

"Stop," she tells him, but she is smiling despite herself.

"Ready?" he asks just as Leon joins them.

"No," she answers, the smile slipping from her face. "Let's go."

"Where's Elyan?" Arthur asks.

"He'll be here. Trial starts at two; he'll be here at 1:59," she sighs. The three of them walk into the courtroom, Leon in the lead, followed by Gwen and then Arthur.

xXx

Leon finishes his opening remarks, then Duncan takes the stand. He is sworn in and sits, folding his hands in front of him to keep them still. He does not look at Alined, as he has been instructed.

"Would you state your full name please?" Leon asks.

"Duncan Isaiah Matthews."

"And what is your job at Alined Paper?"

"I oversee the loading dock in the warehouse."

"What does that involve, exactly?"

"I take care of the shipments what comes in, checkin' that what's unloaded matches the invoice – the sheet that tells what's s'posed to be on the truck. I tells the other men where to put the supplies. On the shipments that goes out, I tells the men where to find the order and make sure that what's loaded matches the order."

"So you have a fair amount of responsibility there," Leon comments.

"Yessuh."

"How long have you been with the company?" Leon asks, consciously choosing his words carefully.

"Ten year."

"Hmm. But Alined Paper has only been in existence for eight years…"

"Yessuh. Before that it was Blue Mountain Paper."

"So you worked for Blue Mountain Paper for two years before Eugene Alined took over, is that correct?"

"Yessuh," Duncan nods.

"And Blue Mountain Paper was owned by a mister… Hank Powell," he says, consulting a sheet of paper. Mainly for show. He knows exactly who and what and why.

"Mr. Powell, yes," Duncan nods again.

"And eight years ago, Mr. Alined purchased the company from Mr. Powell, is that correct?" Leon asks.

"Not really, sir, no."

"Care to explain?"

"Well, the public word is that it was a straight purchase. But everyone knowed that Mr. Powell had a bit of a problem when it came to playin' cards."

"Continue."

"Well, his last day, he come in stinkin' o' gin, spoutin' off about how he lost his whole company to this… beggin' your pardon… ugly, cheatin' bastard. Then he started cryin', sayin' that he was sorry that we's gonna have such a bad boss."

"Objection, your honor," Aggy Boudreaux speaks up for the first time now. "How is this relevant?"

Judge Rodor looks questioningly at Leon.

"My witness is giving background on the general work environment at Alined Paper, specifically in the warehouse. Explaining the workplace atmosphere."

"Overruled, for the moment. But you'd better get to your point soon, Mr. Winters," Rodor says.

"And what happened when Mr. Alined took over?" Leon asks.

Duncan furrows his brow a moment. "Not much. That is to say, things stopped happenin'. We had orders goin' out, shipments comin' in, but we was all feelin' like we was treadin' water. Doin' lots o' work and gettin' nowhere, you see."

"Not very rewarding," Leon nods. "And what can you tell us about Paul Baker?"

"He was the old warehouse manager, before Mr. Andersen. Left all sudden-like in the middle of the day about a year and a half ago."

"Do you know why he left?"

"Yessuh. He wa'n't quiet about it nohow. He slammed out o' the office, spoutin' off things like… excuse my language again, please… 'cheap asshole' and 'this place is gon' fall down inside o' two year' and 'someone's gon' get killed.' Then he stormed out."

"And what were these colorful comments in reference to?"

"Well, things break down and need fixin'. I sees the things that need fixin', and I tells the boss. He fills out a form and gives it to the big boss. But nothin' was gettin' fixed. Mr. Baker got to the end of his rope, I reckon."

"How long was it before Percy Andersen arrived?"

"Five, six months. We had all been thinkin' that Tom Thompson was goin' to be made manager. He'd been kinda runnin' things durin' that time. Then one day Mr. Alined brings Mr. Andersen in, announces that he's our new manager, and leaves."

"Was Tom upset?"

"No. He was the only one who _didn't_ think he'd be put in charge o' the warehouse," Duncan says, chuckling a little. He meets Gwen's eye and she smiles fondly at him, understanding completely. "And Mr. Andersen has proved to be a good boss, so after a month or so we stopped bein' difficult." Duncan grins a little now and sees Percy sitting in the crowd, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Does Mr. Andersen submit the repair requests you give him?" Leon asks.

"Yessuh, he does. I knows he does," Duncan nods.

"And do the repairs get done?"

"No. That's somethin' that hasn't changed."

"I see. What can you tell us about Tom Thompson? Was he a good worker?" Leon steers the testimony in a slightly different direction.

"Yessuh. Like I said, we's all expectin' that he was gon' be our boss. He'd been there as long as me. Little longer, actually. Always on time, followed the rules, and made sure we all followed them, too. Everyone liked him. Had a… a way about him. Tom could tell you you did somethin' wrong and you'd find yourself wanting to thank him for correctin' you." He glances at Gwen again. She is looking a little wistful now, thinking of her father.

"Never did anything… reckless or dangerous?" Leon asks.

"Never. I don't think he would even think of it. Even when we was, um, breakin' in Boss – Mr. Andersen, I mean – he was always tryin' to get us to go easy on him."

"So then, the events of September 18, then… he wasn't behaving recklessly or in an unsafe manner?"

"No. He was just doin' his job, same as Ezra Johnson was just tryin' to do his."

"How would you classify what happened that day?"

Duncan takes a breath. "It was a terrible accident that wouldn't have happened if the repairs had been seen to on that forklift truck."

"Thank you, Mr. Matthews, I have nothing further," Leon says and sits.

"Mr. Boudreaux?" Judge Rodor turns to Aggy.

Aggy stands and saunters over towards the witness stand. "Mr. Matthews, how is it you seem to know so much about my client's _acquisition_ of Blue Mountain Paper?"

"Well, sir, it's like I said. Mr. Powell came in and pret' much tole us that Mr. Alined done won it off him in a poker game."

"You also said that Mr. Powell stank of gin at the time."

"Yessuh. He was drunk at the time."

"So you believed his drunken ravings?"

"Anyone that's been around anyone who's had a few too many could prob'ly tell you that the drink makes a person more honest than they normally would be."

"Sounds like you know something about liquor," Aggy says, insinuation clear in his voice.

Duncan glances at Leon and Arthur, remembering Leon's words. _"If he's resortin' to trickery, that means he doesn't have a case."_ They do not look worried, so he answers. "I have had a drink or two in my day, but so have half the people in this courtroom, I reckon."

"But especially you," Aggy says. He produces a sheet of paper. "Police records. You've had some tangles with the law due to your taste for alcohol, Mr. Matthews."

Duncan lifts his chin, refusing to be baited. "If you look at those reports, sir, you'll see that the most recent charge was fifteen year ago. I haven't touched a drop since then and I never will again."

Aggy's eyes flash briefly, then, and Duncan can't quite gauge the emotion. He knows it's anger, but he's not exactly sure of the reason.

"I have nothing further," he snaps, sitting. Apparently that was his only card for this hand, and it was trumped before he could even play it.

xXx

Ezra's turn is next, and Gwen finds she is very nervous for him.

"I hope he does okay," she leans over and whispers to Arthur as Ezra makes his way up. "I'm so worried about him."

"We recommended a psychiatrist to him," Arthur tells her. "If we win, he should get a part of the settlement as well. Alined should pay for Ezra's therapy."

Gwen stares at him, struck by his thoughtfulness. She smiles at him, and he feels her smile burrowing into his heart and making itself comfortable.

Leon starts much the same way with Ezra. Full name, his position at the warehouse.

"Ezra, I know you have been struggling since Tom's death, but would you be so kind as to tell us what happened that day?"

"Yessuh," Ezra nods. His voice is soft, and the courtroom goes completely silent as he starts to talk.

"I just took a pallet to the row where Duncan tole me. Was makin' my way back to the truck, and let me tell you, it wa'n't easy. I turn the wheel left, it go straight. I hit the brakes, it don't stop. 'Fore I knew it, I was headin' down the wrong aisle with the forks stuck half up. I seen Tom ahead of me, checkin' another pallet, and I right away knowed he was trapped."

Ezra pauses, swallowing hard.

"Can you continue, Mr. Johnson?"

He nods. "I stomped on them brakes like they was a big ol' spider. I tried turnin' the wheel, but there was nowhere I could go and… the truck don't stop…"

He closes his eyes, squeezing them shut, and when he opens them again he looks at Gwen and sees her dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

"In the end I just put my hands over my eyes. I thought about jumpin' from the truck but I knew I'd get hurt, too, if I done that. The truck only stopped when it hit the wall. Tom was stuck between the truck and the wall. One o' the forks, it… it went right through him…" his voice breaks off and he wipes at one of his eyes. "I kilt him. I'm sorry, Miss Gwen, you know I am, but I couldn't…"

"It's all right, Ezra," Leon says quietly. "Miss Thompson has already stated that she does not hold you responsible."

Ezra nods, and he looks at Gwen again. Her eyes are red but she is attempting to smile encouragingly at him.

"Did you sustain any injuries in this accident, Mr. Johnson?" Leon asks.

"Some bruises, mainly."

"And?" he presses.

"Nightmares."

"Objection, your honor. A nightmare is not an injury," Aggy huffs.

"Mr. Winters?"

"Recent research states that mental trauma after an accident such as this should indeed be considered an injury. Mr. Johnson suffered great mental trauma, as you can plainly see, and these nightmares are a manifestation of this."

"Overruled, Boudreaux."

Leon changes direction. "What can you tell us about this faulty forklift truck, Ezra? When you are able."

Ezra takes a deep breath, wipes at his eyes again, and speaks again. "We have two forklift trucks in the warehouse. One o' them works pretty well, and the other one, well, we'd gone to flippin' a coin to see who had to drive it each day."

"What was wrong with it?"

"Um, the brakes was goin'. The steerin' was…" he searches for the right word, "unpredictable. Tires bald. The hydraulics, what makes the forks go up and down? They was startin' to malfunction. The forks would get stuck."

"Would they get stuck in any particular place? All the way up? All the way down?"

"No. We never could tell where they was gon' get stuck. Oh, and every once in a while there'd be this squealin' noise comin' from somewhere."

"So quite a few things, then," Leon says, nodding. "And requests were made for service?"

"Yessuh. Still waitin' on the maintenance people to come."

"You have no on-site maintenance?"

"No. Mr. Alined got rid of the one we had when he took over. Said we didn't need them and he'd hire in men when we needed things fixed."

"And did you ever see any of these hired maintenance men?"

"Once or twice. It's been two years since I last saw one, I reckon."

"Thank you Ezra, I know this has been difficult for you. I have no further questions." Leon goes to his seat, silently praying that Ezra can hold it together through Boudreaux's questioning.

Judge Rodor looks at Aggy. "Your witness, Boudreaux."

Aggy does something surprising then. "I don't believe I'm gonna ask this witness any questions, your honor."

Leon and Arthur look at each other across Gwen, puzzled. Ezra visibly relaxes.

Then Boudreaux continues. "No point in questioning the mentally unstable."

"Of course," Arthur mutters. "Asshole."

"You may step down, Mr. Johnson," Rodor says.

"That was very…" Gwen says quietly.

"Go ahead and say it Guinevere," Arthur says.

"Shitty," she finishes.

"Atta girl," he nods. Then he glances over her at Leon. "And now, for our next trick?"

Leon stands again. "Prosecution calls Jack Aredian, your honor."

"Shit." From the other side of the aisle, Leon smirks as he just barely hears Aggy curse under his breath.


	10. Chapter 10

Aredian strides to the witness stand from the back of the courtroom, a thin, severe, imposing figure, all in black. Something about his demeanor makes everyone uncomfortable in his presence, like they're afraid that he's going to shoot lightning bolts from his fingertips and smite them just for breathing the same air.

"Good Lord, Arthur, where'd your father meet _him?_" Gwen whispers.

"I honestly have no idea. Some questions are better left unanswered," he whispers back. He's been enjoying whispering in her ear all afternoon, though he feels slightly guilty about his enjoyment, in light of the circumstances.

Leon stands after Aredian is sworn in.

"State your full name, please."

"Jack Aredian."

Leon pauses a second. "All right," he nods. "And what is your occupation, sir?"

"Maintenance expert."

"Can you explain to the court what that exactly means?"

"I know how mechanical things work. I diagnose problems and I fix them."

"Is there anything you cannot fix?"

"I have yet to discover one."

"Very good," Leon says, clearing his throat. Clearly even he is a bit unnerved by his own witness. "A week ago Friday, you paid a visit to the warehouse at Alined Paper, is this correct?"

"Yes."

"And what were your findings?"

"My findings are on the report in your hands."

Leon takes an almost imperceptible deep breath. "Yes, but as I do not have copies for everyone here, would you please summarize your findings? Exhibit A, your honor." Leon hands the file to Judge Rodor.

"I found fifteen separate repairs in need of attention on a variety of machinery, as well as cracked cement, peeling paint, and a significant rodent problem."

Gwen hears murmurs of agreement from the men seated directly behind her: Duncan, Ezra, and Percy. They know of these problems.

"Cracked cement and peeling paint?"

"Safety issues. Cracked cement can cause accidents. Men can trip, machinery can develop problems moving on an uneven surface. The paint to which I am referring is the bright yellow paint on beams and railings, designed to make them visible to workers driving forklift trucks to keep them from colliding into things."

"And the rodents?"

"Illness and disease. Workers get sick, they cannot work."

"You mentioned forklift trucks just a moment ago," Leon says. What can you tell us about forklift #2?"

"That truck, in its current state, should be sidelined and used for parts. Had it been properly and routinely maintained, it would be fine. Mr. Johnson already described the issues that truck has. I do not need to re-state them."

"So his statements were accurate? The… bad steering and brakes, bald tires, faulty hydraulics?"

"Yes. And it was also spewing black smoke from its exhaust."

"Your honor, I should point out that Jack Aredian's report of his findings is limited to _just_ the warehouse. He did not venture into the factory, though I would recommend he be allowed to do so in the near future."

"Mmm," Rodor answers noncommittally, still looking at the report.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Aredian. I have nothing further," Leon says. He sits and takes a long drink of his water.

"Mr. Boudreaux?" Rodor asks, lifting his eyes to where Aggy is sitting, looking somewhat uneasy. The judge looks over to see Aredian staring at Aggy. Just staring, not glaring or doing anything menacing.

But it even gives Judge Rodor the creeps. "Mr. Boudreaux, would you care to cross-examine?" he repeats, a little louder now.

"No," Boudreaux squeaks.

Judge Rodor glances at the clock and sighs. "All right, folks. It's Friday, and it's past 4:30. Ain't nothing goin' to be done in the next half hour. We will adjourn for the weekend and reconvene Monday, nine a.m."

xXx

"I think that went well," Leon says, out in the corridor. "It was amusing to see that Aggy was not immune to Aredian's particular charms."

Arthur chuckles. "My dad is the only one who is."

"I don't know if that makes me like your father more or if that makes me a little afraid of him," Gwen says. "That man was just creepy."

"That he is," Arthur agrees. "Are you hungry?"

"Arthur…"

"Sorry. Oh, hey, Elyan," Arthur looks up to see Elyan approaching them.

"Arthur," Elyan nods.

"Elyan, this is Leon Winters, Arthur's associate. Leon, my brother Elyan."

"Nice to meet you, Elyan," Leon says, extending his hand.

Elyan shakes it. "You're doin' a good job up there, as far as I can tell," Elyan says, surprising them all.

"Could you tell that I was nervous questioning Mr. Aredian?" Leon asks.

"Nah, we was _all_ nervous when he went up there," Elyan says. "They takin' good care o' you up there, Gwen?"

"Yes, Elyan, I'm fine. The worst part was listening to Ezra," she says.

"Yeah, that was rough. Daddy would o' been proud o' him, though."

Gwen nods. "He was there with us today," she says, taking her brother's hand and squeezing it. "Where were you?"

"In the back, o' course. Sneaked in just before two."

Gwen smirks at Arthur, who tactfully turns his head to hide his smile.

"All right, I _know_ what you smirkin' at, girl."

"Just be there earlier on Monday. I'd like it if you were sitting closer to me," she says.

"Let's go home," Elyan says. "You got a car here?"

She glances at Arthur. "Um, no… Arthur gave me a lift…"

Elyan looks sideways at Arthur.

"Only because parking is terrible 'round here. No sense in bringin' more cars over when it's already bad."

"Yeah, I'm two blocks over and one up," Elyan allows, grudgingly. "Come on, you can cook me supper," he says.

"I ain't cookin' you nothin', Elyan Thomas," Gwen snaps back as the four of them walk out of the courthouse. Arthur chuckles behind them. Even Leon can't hide his smile at Gwen's sassy demeanor with her brother.

xXx

Arthur is heading into Gwaine's to meet Merlin for lunch Saturday when a commotion catches his eye a couple blocks away.

Police are outside the Woolworth's, and as he looks, he sees about a half dozen young black men being escorted from the premises.

_Not escorted, hauled._ He looks. _Shit. Is that Elyan?_ He starts walking over. _Yes, it is. Shit, Elyan, what are you doing? I don't need this. Guinevere doesn't need this._

He recognizes the officer holding Elyan's elbow and calls to him. "Steve! Hey, Steve!"

The officer stops. "Arthur!"

"What's going on here?"

"Taking these boys to the station. Disorderly conduct."

"Now hold on a minute there," Arthur says. "I happen to be this young man's lawyer." He shoots Elyan a look that says _Don't you dare open your mouth._ "Can I have a word with my client, please?"

"Um…"

"Steve, I just want a word."

"All right," he says, holding his hand up to the other officers who are now taking an interest.

"Elyan what the hell are you doing?" Arthur asks, quietly but forcefully.

"We wasn't doin' nothin', honest! We was just sittin' in. Real peaceful, like. Wasn't botherin' no one!"

Arthur studies him a minute. "I wish Guinevere was here," he mutters.

"What?"

"She knows when you're lyin'."

"I ain't lyin' Arthur! We was just _settin'._ On my Mama's soul." He moves his shoulders a minute. "I'd cross my heart if I had my hands."

"All right, I believe you," Arthur says, holding up his hands. "Let me talk to the cops."

Elyan nods.

"_Do not open your mouth,_" Arthur says sternly. "Hey, Steve," Arthur says. "Disorderly conduct? Surely that's a bit… trumped-up, don't you think?"

"I just got a call from the Woolworth's, Arthur…"

"Steve, Pete," he addresses another policeman as well now, "these boys weren't botherin' anyone. They were bein' peaceful."

"They upset old Mrs. Nash."

"Old Mrs. Nash is 112 if she's a day. A goldfish would upset old Mrs. Nash," Arthur sighs. He shoots a glare at Elyan as he bites back a snicker.

"Let 'em go, boys, come on. You got better things to be doin' than chasin' after some colored boys who weren't doing anything besides _maybe_ loitering."

"I don't know…" Steve shifts his weight on his feet now, clearly considering it.

"You got bigger fish to fry, boys," Arthur presses. "Like that kid who keeps knockin' over gas stations. Or that moron who keeps showin' his business to ladies down in the park."

"I suppose…"

"Look, Steve. If it'll make you feel better, I'll be responsible for Elyan here."

Elyan is about to open his mouth to protest, but another glare from Arthur keeps his teeth together.

"If he so much as jaywalks, you can arrest me, too," Arthur finishes.

Elyan is shocked. _He would put his own neck on the line like that for me?_

"Release them, boys," Steve says to the other officers, and they go about unlocking handcuffs. "I will be keeping my eyes out for you, though," he says to Elyan.

The policemen get in their cars and disperse, and Elyan turns to Arthur.

"Um… thanks."

Elyan's friends all stop and thank him as well. Arthur notices that Aaron is among them, too. He stops and shakes Arthur's hand. "Thanks, man. Knew you had to be good people, since you're Merlin's friend."

Arthur nods at Aaron, then turns to Elyan. "Don't make a liar out of me, Elyan," Arthur says tersely. "I don't want to end up in jail any more'n you do."

"Understood."

"Your sister doesn't need you making trouble either, not now." Arthur starts walking back to Gwaine's, and Elyan follows.

"I know. I wasn't tryin' to make trouble. I said we was bein' peaceful, and we was, but then that old biddy started in to fussin', and 'fore we knew it, the fuzz was pullin' up and slappin' cuffs on us all without even askin' _us_ what we was doin'."

Arthur nods, then shakes his head. "That's wrong. They shouldn't be hasslin' you and automatically assumin' you're trouble because of the color of your skin."

Elyan looks at Arthur as if he's never seen him before. "You really think that way, don't you?"

"What way?"

"Like what Dr. King said. That people shouldn't be judged by the color of their skin. They should be judged by the…" he pauses, trying to remember the words.

"The content of their character, yes," Arthur nods. "That is really the way I think."

"You're all right, Arthur," Elyan says after a time.

"Even for a blonde Mr. Charlie?" Arthur asks, smirking.

"You're all right as a _man,_ Arthur."

"Thank you, Elyan. So are you, my friend."

xXx

Sunday, halftime of the St. Louis – Minnesota game, and Arthur's phone rings.

"You're lucky it's halftime," is how he answers the phone.

"You think I would be callin' anyone while the game was on, Arthur?" Gwen laughs.

"Oh, well, seein' as how it's you, then, no. Merlin isn't as considerate. How are you, Guinevere?"

"Pretty good. Cardinals are kickin' tails and takin' names, so it's a good day."

"Can't argue with that logic."

"Elyan told me what you did yesterday," she says.

"Oh. It wasn't nothin'."

"It was somethin', Arthur. He really appreciates it. And so do I."

"It really wasn't a big deal. I just made the cops realize that they were overreacting, is all."

"You put your own reputation on the line for my brother, Arthur. He told me what you said; about if Elyan gets in trouble again they can arrest you, too. He couldn't believe you'd do that for him."

"Elyan's a good guy. I think he forgets that himself, sometimes. But I did it for you, too, Guinevere."

"For me?"

"Well, yes. You don't need him addin' more stress to your life right now. I told him that, too. He loves you, Guinevere, and I don't think he realized that his actions could have a negative affect on all the good you're tryin' to do with this trial."

"Oh," she says. "The trial, right."

"Well, that's not the only reason, but you won't let me talk about that," he says softly.

"You don't need to impress me, Superman, you've already done that," she admits.

"Um… oh! Did Elyan convince you to cook dinner for him on Friday?" he asks, changing the subject to hopefully a lighter topic. _Ignore the elephant in the room._

"Nope," she says, and he can hear her smile. "We stopped at the McDonald's on Ridgeway and I made him buy me a cheeseburger."

"Good for you," Arthur chuckles. "I came home and had a bowl of cereal and some toast and ended up falling asleep on the couch. Woke up around 1:30 and then went to bed."

Gwen laughs. "After supper we came home and I came straight up here and took a long, hot bubble bath."

The silence on the other end of the line is deafening, and it is only then that Gwen realizes her mistake.

"Arthur?" she ventures cautiously.

"Sorry," he croaks. "I'm here…"

"Um, the game is coming back on. I'll let you go so we can both watch."

"Oh, um…"

"See you tomorrow morning," she says.

"Okay. Goodbye, Guinevere," he answers and hangs up the phone.

Arthur finds he has trouble concentrating on the second half of the game because his mind keeps drifting to thoughts of Guinevere, lying blissfully in a bathtub, her skin glistening, surrounded by piles of luxurious suds.

xXx

8:40 Monday morning finds Gwen waiting outside the courtroom with Arthur and Leon. Both lawyers seem excited about the day's events. Percy is taking the stand today and they cannot wait.

"What if he chickens out?" Gwen asks.

"He won't," Arthur says. She doesn't know the latest details, and he doesn't have time to go into it all right now.

She smiles, and he knows that he's gone all Superman on her again. "Oh, there he is," she says.

Percy walks slowly over, joining the group. "Hey."

"Percy, you look very dashing today," Gwen says, looking up at him.

"Thanks. This is my one good suit," he says. "I have trouble finding suits that fit me right, so I always have to have them made or tailored," he explains.

"Well, if you were the size of a normal human man instead of a… a silverback gorilla, it wouldn't be a problem, now, would it?" Arthur asks, smirking at the large man.

"That's a new one," Percy says, nodding appreciatively with a chuckle.

Gwen looks between Percy and Leon's shoulders now, suddenly feeling very short, and sees Merlin and Gwaine walk in.

"Gwaine?" she says, furrowing her brows.

Arthur turns. "Merlin," he nods. "Gwaine, this is a surprise."

"Trial of the year, man, had to come. Miss Gwen, you look lovely, as always," Gwaine holds his hand out, expecting Gwen to place her hand in his.

She looks at his hand and raises an eyebrow at him.

"This ain't your pub, mate," Merlin says, thumping him on the head. "Company manners."

Gwen chuckles at Merlin as he chastises Gwaine like he is a disobedient child. She looks at the large clock on the wall. 8:50. "Ugh, time is crawlin'. Why were we here so early?"

"Gotta be here early. The courts frown on tardiness," Leon says, looking at his watch. "Hey, Jim," he says, greeting a police officer walking past.

"Jim!" Arthur calls, waving him back.

"Arthur, Leon," the policeman says.

"Jim, this is Guinevere Thompson. The house that was vandalized by your new favorite guest was her house," Arthur says. "Guinevere, police chief Jim Quigley."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Gwen smiles. The chief offers his hand and she shakes it. "And thank you for your help."

"Just doin' my job, miss. And speaking of, I'd better get to it," he nods. "Nice meeting you. Arthur, Leon, good luck today. Keep me posted." He glances up at Percy and gives him a friendly nod.

"Of course," Arthur answers.

As Jim steps away, Gwen sees him pause near Gwaine and mutters, "Mom says hello. And get a haircut."

Gwaine snorts and slaps Jim affectionately on the arm as he walks away.

Gwen looks at Arthur, a question in her eyes. Arthur nods slightly, but puts his finger to his lips.

_Well, I guess that explains how Gwaine's tavern stays open._

"Let's go inside," Arthur says. "We don't want to meet up with Aggy here in the hallway, do we?" As he leads the group inside, Gwen glances back to the doors and sees Elyan come skidding in.

_Earlier than he was on Friday,_ she thinks with a shrug.

xXx

"State your full name, please," Leon starts out, leaning casually against the table where Arthur and Gwen sit.

"Percival Einar Andersen," he says, clearly a man less than thrilled with the name his parents gave him.

"That's quite a name," Leon comments.

"Well, it's not just you southerners that go in for family names, Mr. Winters."

"Right. Where is it you hail from, then, Percy?"

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota, sir."

"Sounds like a good, honest, hard-working town."

"It is, sir."

"Do you miss it?" Leon asks, as if he is making conversation.

"Objection, your honor. This is irrelevant," Aggy says, his tone irritated.

"Merely establishing my witness's character, your honor," Leon explains.

"Overruled. Continue," Judge Rodor waves his hand.

"Do you miss South Dakota, Mr. Andersen?"

"Sometimes. Don't miss the cold weather."

There are scattered chuckles throughout the crowd at his answer. Arthur smiles a small smile. _This is exactly what I was counting on. The man is a genuinely good person. They'll see this._

"You are an Army veteran, is that correct?" Leon pushes himself away from the table and starts milling slowly about the front of the courtroom.

"Yes, sir. Was injured and honorably discharged."

"Were you in Korea?"

"No, sir. Vietnam."

"Oh, so very recently, then," Leon continues as if he doesn't know all the details.

"Yes, sir."

"How is it you were in Vietman? The United States hasn't sent any combat troops there yet."

"Special Forces, sir. Confidential."

"Ah, you could tell me, but then you'd have to kill me, is that correct?" Leon smiles.

"Yes, sir."

"And why were you sent home?"

"Injury. I lost part of my leg, below the knee," he says.

"And I trust that's all the detail you can give, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you came home to find…"

"I came home to find that no one was able to give me a job. Or willing, more accurately. I'm built for physical work, Mr. Winters. No one wanted to hire a man with one-and-two-thirds legs, even if the rest of him is perfectly healthy," he shrugs.

There are some mutterings in the crowd now, mutterings of understanding Percy's plight, mutterings of scorn for the people who wouldn't give him a job.

"So you return home, a war hero with significant scars to prove it, and no one would hire you."

"Yes, sir."

"So you picked up and came here?"

"Not exactly, sir. My mother made a call and… well, sir, she helped me get this job at Alined Paper, sir."

"Your mother?"

"Yes, sir. Eugene Alined is her older brother."

There is a collective gasp throughout the crowd. Percy's secret is out. Arthur glances over to see Aggy Boudreaux scrambling through his notes, and he grins, poking Gwen on the arm and pointing.

Arthur leans over and whispers, "See? I told you. Pre-emptive strike. We let the cat out of the bag before Aggy does, disarming what was surely a key element of his defense."

Gwen nods and smiles at him, finding her gaze lingering on his smiling face just a fraction too long. She drops her eyes and blushes slightly.

"So your mother called your uncle and asked him if he would give you a job," Leon says.

"Yes, sir."

"If Mr. Alined is your uncle, then why are you helping Miss Thompson with her case?" Leon asks the question that is now on everyone's minds.

"I have no love for my uncle. I am grateful to him for the job, but I disagree with just about everything he stands for as a person."

"You'll be lookin' for another job sooner'n you think, boy!" Alined shouts suddenly, his face red.

Aggy grabs his client's arm and shushes him vehemently. "We do apologize for the outburst, your honor," he sputters, squeezing Alined's arm so hard his knuckles are white. "It won't happen again."

"It better not or I'll find you in contempt of court," the judge says.

"If you dislike your uncle so strongly, why did you accept the job?" Leon continues, asking the questions he knows Aggy would be asking, well aware that Arthur is now smiling rather smugly behind him.

"I was desperate for a job, sir. Some of you can understand this." There are scattered nods throughout the crowd. "When you're desperate, you'll take whatever you can get, no matter the conditions. Even if it means moving far away."

"Why did you need this job so badly, Percy?" Leon asks quietly.

"My father is dead. My mother can't work. I'm her only son. I need to support her," he answers, just as quietly. "My mom is… fragile. Simple, but sweet. She needs looking after. She has a friend that looks in on her, but we can't expect her to take care of my mom financially."

"You have no other family?"

"No, sir. Just me and my mom. And _him,_ I guess," he says, nodding in Alined's direction.

"So you send money home," Leon says.

"Yes, every week. As much as I can spare."

"You are a good son, Percy," Leon nods. "And I believe you are a good man. Would you care to tell us why you chose to speak up about Mr. Thompson's death?"

"Well, sir, a man was killed. A good man, with a family. His death could have been prevented. Should have been prevented. It was simply the right thing to do, sir."

"Right," Leon nods. "Your honor, I submit Exhibit B for your perusal," Leon says, reaching for a thick folder of papers. "Copies of repair requests for several pieces of equipment. Requests that were never fulfilled."

The judge takes the folder and flips through the contents. "I don't suppose you have the originals?"

"Exhibit C, seized from Mr. Alined's office," Leon says with a smirk, handing him the second folder. "You'll see they were never signed off."

"How did you acquire these forms, Mr. Winters?" Judge Rodor asks, raising an eyebrow.

"His, um, 'personal assistant,' Mr. Dennis Trickler, is currently being held in County for vandalizing Miss Thompson's home, along with several other charges that have come to light. Miss Thompson and her brother agreed to drop the vandalism charges if he would help us with one or two items pertaining to this case."

Percy glances at Alined. His face is stony and blood-red. Aggy Boudreaux looks like he is going to be sick.

"I have nothing further at this time, your honor," Leon says, nodding to the judge, and sitting.

Arthur nods at Leon, pleased. "Let's see what he comes back with now."

"Mr. Boudreaux," Judge Rodor says, trying not to sigh.

"Thank you, your honor," Aggy stands and immediately starts pacing and posturing, a fat peacock with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Mr. Andersen, you expect us to buy that you'd turn your back on your own kin for some negro who happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"Well, that's a hell of an open," Leon leans back and mutters to Arthur behind Gwen's head. Arthur shushes him, but he's smirking.

"I don't expect _everyone_ to understand my motives, sir, no," Percy says carefully. It's fairly clear to the crowd to whom he was referring when he said "everyone."

"What are your motives, then, son? Please enlighten us."

"As I said, a man died that did not deserve to die."

"Surely that happens all the time."

"But it would have been prevented if other people had done their jobs, sir," Percy says, glancing again at his uncle.

"So. You're just a nice, honest, down-to-earth young man with a big heart, a decorated war hero that just wants people to treat each other with respect, is that it?"

"I guess you could say that, yes, sir."

_I love that he keeps ending his statements with "sir,"_ Arthur thinks.

"Mr. Andersen, according to my findings, your nickname in the army was 'Sweet Pea,' is that correct?"

Percy furrows his brows. "Um, yes, sir."

"That's an… _interesting_ nickname for a soldier, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Percy answers, glancing at Leon and Arthur, who look as confused as he is, but give him encouraging nods anyway. _Keep being yourself!_

"Now, Mr. Andersen, it makes _me_ no never mind, but surely homosexuals are not allowed in the military…"

"Objection, your honor!" Leon stands and yells. "This isn't relevant, and he's insulting my witness!"

"Merely establishing the witness's character, your honor," Aggy shoots back, using Leon's earlier words against him now.

"Overruled… for the moment. Proceed carefully, Mr. Boudreaux."

"Now, Mr. Andersen, would you care to explain how you kept this little secret from your commanding officer? Surely this fine, upstanding war hero wasn't _lyin'_ to the U.S. Government…" he sneers, the implications plain in his voice.

"I am not a homosexual," Percy states simply. Calmly. Arthur almost stands and cheers. _He's unflappable!_

"Oh, you ain't? Well, then, care to explain your little nickname, honey?"

"Objection!" Leon yells again.

"Sustained. Watch it, Boudreaux."

"I'll answer the question," Percy offers, looking at the judge.

"If you'd like."

"My initials are P.E.A. I made the mistake of writing them on my pack, and, well, you know how it is in the military…" Percy starts.

"No. I don't, as a matter of fact," Aggy says, sounding like he's proud of the fact that he never had to dirty his hands serving his country.

"I'm a Navy man, Mr. Andersen, so I understand completely," the judge says. "But perhaps you can explain it to the defense attorney."

"Well, all it takes is for one person to say something once, sir, and if it sticks, you're stuck forever. And since I am, as you yourself said, a nice, honest, down-to-earth young man, someone started calling me 'Sweet Pea.' On account of the fact that I am how I am. Not queer, but quiet."

Aggy seems to deflate like a balloon with a slow leak.

"You may think it an unfortunate nickname, but try telling that to my buddy Muttonhead," Percival adds.

Arthur has to slap his hand over his mouth to stop his laughter. _I love this guy._

"Quite," is all that Boudreaux can manage. "So tell me, Mr. Andersen, why is it you felt it was necessary to make and keep copies of all these reports? Surely there is a better use of your time than pushing around papers?"

"Well, Mr. Boudreaux, my captain had a motto that he drilled into us. C.Y.A."

"C… Y… A…" Aggy mulls over the three letters, as if tasting them. "Care to explain that?"

"Yes, sir. It stands for 'Cover Your…' um, rear end. Or very nearly close to that."

"And how does this charming 'motto' pertain to your wasting company time and resources to make copies of reports?"

"Well, sir, the repairs weren't getting done. So I started keeping copies of the requests just case there was an accident involving one of these pieces of machinery, and if someone got hurt or killed, we would know that _we_ at least _tried_ to keep our equipment operating properly," Percy explains, speaking slowly and clearly, as if he is talking to a small child. "You will also notice that I re-used scrap pieces of paper to make the copies rather than, as you said, _wasting_ clean white paper," he adds, just to further drive his point home.

Arthur reaches around Gwen and pokes Leon in the shoulder, who just nods. He glances at Gwen, who appears to be holding her breath.

"Breathe, Guinevere, it's going to be fine," he whispers to her, and she slowly releases her breath.

"Sounds to me like you have no confidence in your uncle," Aggy says. He turns to the crowd "What kind of fine, upstanding young man turns his back on his kin like that, I ask you?"

He gets no response, only stony stares, so he spins quickly around to address Percy again. "You do not trust your uncle, son?"

"With due respect sir, I would ask that you please stop calling me 'son.' I am not your son. And no, I do not trust my uncle."

"All right, _Mr. Andersen,_ why is this, pray tell?"

Percy looks at Alined a moment. It looks as though he has just swallowed a toad. "That is a matter of public record, sir. His past is well-documented in the state of South Dakota."

"I didn't find anything incriminating against Mr. Eugene Alined," Aggy shrugs. "Exhibit, um, D, your honor." He tosses a thin file on the judge's desk, a report stating that Eugene Alined has no criminal record.

"Did you check under the name Herman Delaine, sir?"

"Who in the Sam Hill is Herman Delaine?"

"Eugene Alined, sir. His birth name."

"You little bastard!" Alined leaps from his chair again, fuming.

"Mr. Boudreaux, restrain your client or I will have him restrained," Judge Rodor shouts, banging his gavel. "Mr. Alined, you are fined $100 for contempt. I did warn you."

"No further questions, your honor," Aggy mumbles, pushing Alined back to his seat.

"Mr. Winters?"

"I believe Mr. Andersen has said all he needs to say," Leon drawls. "I'd like to call Eugene Alined… or Herman Delaine… to the stand. Whichever of you wants to come up. Don't matter to me which."

Percy gets down from the witness stand and makes his uneven way back to his seat. He pauses beside Gwen, and she smiles up at him, reaching her hand out a bit, then withdrawing it some, knowing that she shouldn't. Percy reaches forward and clasps her hand anyway, squeezing it reassuringly between his large paws.

Gwen is surprised at the gentleness of his touch. "Thank you," she whispers. He just nods and returns to his seat.


	11. Chapter 11

Alined slinks up to the witness stand and is sworn in.

"So," Leon begins, "Mr. Alined, you have been in Memphis for nine years, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And before that, you were known as Herman Delaine of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, is _that_ correct?"

"Yes."

"Your honor, I move for a recess," Aggy stands and declares loudly.

"Reason?"

"I'm not prepared for this… new information."

Judge Rodor taps his chin with his finger a moment, at least pretending to think about it. "No, I don't think so. The fact that your client was not completely forthcoming with you about his past is not this court's problem. Proceed, Mr. Winters."

Aggy sits, scowling.

"Now, Mr. Alined… Mr. Delaine… I'm sorry, I'm not exactly sure how I should address you," Leon says, smirking. "We'll go with 'Alined' for now, I think. Mr. Alined, we'll get to the, um, _details_ of your life in South Dakota momentarily, but first, will you tell the court how it is that you managed to convince Mr. Andersen and his mother to keep your little secret?"

Alined glances at Aggy, who looks completely lost. He shakes his head _no_ very slightly, so Alined says nothing.

"Mr. Alined, you are under oath. And if you do not wish to share with us, I can simply call Mr. Andersen back to the stand and I'm sure he will be more than cooperative."

"I bought their silence through threats and coercion," Alined growls through clenched teeth. "I told them both that I would kill my sister if he opened his mouth. Then when she came beggin' me for a job for her boy, it got much easier."

"You threatened your own sister. Your only, _helpless_ sister. Helpless after she took a little 'spill' down a flight of stairs, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Or was it less a 'spill' and more a 'push,' I wonder?"

"Objection!" Aggy yells. "He's makin' accusations!"

"I am stating facts, Mr. Boudreaux," Leon says, reaching towards Arthur, who is handing him another file. "Exhibit… oh, hell, I've lost count. Here," he hands a large file to the judge now.

"Overruled, Mr. Boudreaux," Rodor says, looking through the papers.

"Mr. Alined," Leon continues. "Would you be so good as to tell us exactly _why_ you needed to maim your sister and further threaten her life to keep her and her son's silence?"

Alined's face is beet-red and he doesn't look inclined to say anything further. "Ask Baby Huey there," he nods towards Percy.

Leon looks over at Percy, who is sitting surprisingly calmly behind Gwen and Arthur. He shrugs, as if to indicate that he expected as much.

"All right, then. You may step down, Mr. Alined."

"Bedivere," Judge Rodor calls to the bailiff, "please escort Mr. Alined to his seat. We don't want him thinking he can take a runner."

"Your honor," Arthur speaks up and stands, "we have made arrangements for Mr. Alined. Mr. Godwin?" He turns and addresses an older man in a suit who seems to materialize from the crowd.

"And who do we have here?" Judge Rodor asks.

"Mr. Keith Godwin and Mr. Robert Caerleon, FBI, your honor. They'll be extraditing Mr. Alined, I mean, Mr. Delaine, back to South Dakota at the conclusion of this trial."

Judge Rodor nods. Suddenly it's looking like his job just got a whole lot easier.

Godwin walks up to Alined and slaps one half of a handcuff on one of his wrists. "Herman," he says.

"Godwin," Alined answers. "You're looking older."

"And you're looking uglier," Godwin snaps. "Grow the beard back; it covers up your face. Come on." He hauls Alined back to his seat beside Aggy, then the two FBI agents sit in two seats that seem to have magically appeared directly behind Alined.

Aggy will not even look at Alined.

"Mr. Andersen, if you would be so kind," Leon says. Percy stands and returns to the witness stand.

"Now, you're still under oath," Leon reminds him.

"Yes, sir, I know, sir."

"Now, we have the details of what Mr. Alined did when he was still walkin' around as Mr. Delaine, but would you care to give us your version of it, Mr. Andersen?"

"Yes, sir. But first, I want to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"For keeping my mouth closed for all this time. I know it wasn't right, but when a man is threatening the only family you have, and it's your own mother, well, it makes it hard to stand up and do the right thing. And I also want to apologize to Miss Thompson. I… part of the reason I stepped up with the information about her father's death is because I finally saw a way out for myself. I saw a way that I could get out from under Mr. Alined's thumb. I used her misfortune to my advantage, and I feel ashamed for that." He looks down at his hands a moment.

"Miss Thompson, would you like to respond?" Judge Rodor asks.

Gwen looks at Arthur, who nods. She stands. "Percy, I cannot forgive you because no wrong has been done. You have no reason to feel ashamed. You are helping me and my brother and several others as well. You are doing a good, brave deed and if you benefit as well, then even better. A reward for a good deed done. I will be forever grateful to you, Percy. You can hold your head high knowing that you helped so many people today, including yourself."

"Thank you, Gwen," Percy says quietly. "You are truly an amazing woman. Tom would be very proud of you."

Gwen smiles, wipes a few tears from her eyes, and sits. Under the table, Arthur's hand creeps over and closes softly over hers for just a few moments, but it is enough.

"All right, then, proceed, Mr. Winters," Judge Rodor waves his hand.

"Mr. Andersen, what can you tell us about the events concerning Mr. Herman Delaine during the month of April 1954?"

"Mr. Delaine was a driver for Dr. Tristan DuBois of Sioux Falls. He was a surgeon, very well-respected. He's retired now."

"And how are you connected to Dr. DuBois?"

"Indirectly. I was friends with his son, Lancelot, through my mother. She was Lance's nanny, and she still looked after him even though he was too old to need a nanny anymore. Mrs. DuBois died with Lance was very young."

"I see. Please continue."

"Well, Dr. Dubois had a housekeeper, Mrs. Harris. She was colored, and she had a daughter, Ellie. Her daughter would also help out after school. She was a sweet girl, smart, very pretty. Mr. Delaine, well, he must have decided that he had to… have her, and…" Percy stops, taking a deep breath. "And he raped her. Then he killed her."

There is a collective gasp from the courtroom. Aggy Boudreaux looks like he doesn't want anything to do with Alined anymore.

"And how do you know this information, Percy?" Leon asks quietly, once the murmuring has died down.

"Lancelot and my mother both saw it. Well, the end of it. And Delaine knew they saw him."

"And what happened the next day?"

"Lancelot took his car to go to school, and he had a fatal car accident. His brakes failed. Brakes on his _brand new car._ He was only seventeen."

Gwen is crying openly now, as are several others in the courtroom.

"And your mother?"

"Well, it's like you said. She took a rather mysterious fall down a marble staircase in Dr. DuBois' house. She hurt her hip badly. Still walks with a limp. And there was brain damage as well. Her memory is… bad. She remembers things she's always known. Like she knows who I am when I call, but she'll forget to do simple things like eat and shower and change clothes."

"And that's why a friend looks in on her, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And to keep your silence, Mr. Delaine threatened further harm on your mother?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then what happened?"

"He left. We thought we were free of him, but then he called two months later. He told us that he wanted us to know that he was still alive and that he was thriving, in fact. Bragged about having his own company."

"That seems rather foolish," Leon comments.

"Well, Mr. Delaine may be a lot of things, but intelligent really isn't one of them," Percy says, and many in the courtroom laugh.

"So he told you where he was?"

"Yes. He said he wanted us to know so we wouldn't be tempted to squeal on him. He thought that if we knew where he was then we would be too afraid to turn him in because he could still get to us. Thinking back, and now that I say it out loud, it sounds really stupid."

Leon chuckles at this. "And how did you land in the army with a mother that needed care?"

"I was drafted. I could have applied for a hardship exception, but my mom told me to go. She said that Sharon would look after her – that's our family friend, Sharon – and that she would be fine. She said that my duty to the country was more important than my duty to her. But then I got injured and was back sooner than either of us expected."

"And, as we already discussed, you were unable to find a job."

"Yes, sir. And that was the first fight I ever had with my mom. She wanted to call Delaine and have him give me a job. I refused. She pleaded with me. Have you ever seen your mother cry, Mr. Winters?"

"Yes," Leon says softly.

"So then you know that it is something you want to stop as soon as you can. I relented, for her. Because I need to take care of her. I swallowed my pride and took the job, Delaine further secured my silence, and I was pressed further under his thumb."

"And did the threats stop, then?"

"No. He'd slip them in, casual as you please, whenever he talked to me. I tried to avoid talking to him."

"I don't blame you," Leon says. "I think that's enough, don't you, your honor?"

Judge Rodor, who has been listening like he wishes he had a bucket of popcorn, nods and looks at Aggy.

"Mr. Boudreaux?"

"I have no questions, your honor." Aggy looks like he's been on a steady diet of lemons and sardines.

"I thought not. Thank you again, Mr. Andersen." Rodor flips through the reports on his desk, then he glances at the clock. "All right, this has been one hell of a morning. I'm tired and I'm hungry. Recess for lunch. We will reconvene in an hour and a half. Bedivere, please show Mr… Godwin and Mr. Caerleon where the holding cells are and put Mr. Alined in there for safekeeping." He bangs his gavel.

xXx

Arthur, Leon, Gwen, Elyan, Merlin, and Gwaine are walking back into the courthouse after grabbing a quick bite to eat at Gwaine's – the only place that all of them could dine together – and they are intercepted by Aggy Boudreaux.

"Winters. Pendragon. A word, please?" He motions to a small conference room.

"Sure," Leon nods.

"Miss Thompson also, please."

Arthur ushers Gwen inside. Elyan looks on, a little concerned, a little forlorn.

"I'd like Elyan to come in, too," she says.

"Of course," Arthur says.

"We'll just sit out here, then," Merlin calls, smirking.

"You do that," Arthur answers.

They all sit at a long mahogany table and stare at Aggy until he speaks.

"My client would like to settle," he declares.

Leon passes Arthur two dollars.

"What was that?"

"I won the bet," Arthur says. "I knew he'd cave. Or you. Leon thought he'd fight to the bitter end."

"Well, truth be told, Alined doesn't exactly want to settle. But I'm not really giving him a choice."

Arthur looks at Gwen, who looks a bit overwhelmed, squeezing her brother's hand.

"One moment," Arthur says to Aggy. He bends and reaches into his briefcase and withdraws a folder. He opens it and shows the contents to Guinevere and Elyan, who read it carefully. Gwen nods and hands it back to Arthur.

"We have conditions," Arthur passes the folder to Aggy.

Aggy takes the folder. "Of course."

"Arthur, what…?" Leon whispers.

"I told you I was confident he would settle after we exposed him."

Aggy reads the list Arthur has presented him. "…_all_ of it?" he finally exclaims. "_Everything?_"

"Well, he ain't gonna be needin' that money where he's goin'," Arthur says, leaning back in his chair. "And that includes the Swiss account that he doesn't think we know about."

"So we're to liquidate all of his accounts and split the funds between the ten people on those accident reports who were injured as a result of faulty machinery, plus Ezra Johnson," he sighs.

"And a larger portion for Miss Thompson and her brother," Arthur adds, pointing to a line on the sheet.

"Arthur…"

"Shh," he shushes her gently.

"Percy Andersen? You sure about that?" he asks, tapping the next point.

"Yes. Duncan Matthews will be promoted to warehouse manager then. And Mr. Aredian has offered to recommend a couple of maintenance men to be brought on. As permanent employees."

"Mr. Aredian isn't interested himself?" Gwen asks.

"Oh good Lord, no," Arthur chuckles. "That would not work out well for anyone involved. He's much too independent."

"Not to mention scary as hell," Elyan chimes in.

"That, too. Leon, would you check to see if Percy's outside, please?"

Leon nods and goes to the door. He opens it and pokes his head out. A moment later he returns, Percy in tow.

"You wished to see me?"

"Yes. Alined wants to settle," Arthur says.

"Okay…?" Percy sits at the table.

"One of the conditions we have for the settlement concerns you, Percy."

His brow furrows a moment. "It does?"

"We'd like you to take ownership of Alined Paper. You can, of course, change the name to whatever you'd like," Arthur says. He glances at Aggy, who is still perusing the sheet Arthur gave him, making notes on it now.

"Me? But I don't know…"

"It's not anything you can't handle, Percy. We've seen your records, both from school and from the Army. You say you're built for manual labor, but you've undersold your intelligence." Arthur looks at him, raising his eyebrows.

"I'd be willin' to bet he's smarter than his dumb-ass uncle," Aggy mutters. "Oh, beg pardon, miss."

Gwen giggles behind her hand while the others stare at Aggy, shocked that he'd say such a thing about his longtime client.

_Of course, he's probably anxious to wash his hands of him as soon as possible,_ Arthur realizes.

"But I don't know anything about running a business," Percy says.

Leon hands him a card. "I actually specialize in business law," he says. "I'll help you out. It'll be real easy, I promise."

Percy takes the card. "You are my new best friend, then," he chuckles. "Thank you."

Aggy turns to the second page of Arthur's file. "Today? You want all these accounts liquidated and dispersed _today?_"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Arthur says. "It's only… 1:15. Leon will take you back to the office and you can meet with Geoffrey and he'll get everything sorted. He's got everything ready for you."

"Well, you sure got your ducks all nice and lined up, don't you, Pendragon?" Aggy says, actually smiling a little.

"Guinevere don't call me 'Superman' for nothin', you know." Arthur leans confidently back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Aggy rolls his eyes. So does Gwen.

"All right, the sooner this is over with, the sooner I can get on the golf course," Aggy says, standing. "I'll meet you back here in ten minutes, Winters. I have to go bid farewell to Mr. Herman Delaine. Let him know that he is now the property of those two nice men from the FBI."

After he leaves, Gwen turns to Arthur. "Arthur, we don't need that much money!"

"Shush, Gwen," Elyan tries, and she waves him off.

"We can have the same amount as all them other families. Split it evenly between all of us."

"Guinevere, it's standard settlement protocol. Those others were just injured. Your father was killed. Death always warrants a bigger reward than injury."

"He's right, Gwen," Leon adds. "Just how it is."

"We could use the money, Gwen. And the others will still be gettin' plenty, right?" Elyan asks, looking back and forth between Leon and Arthur.

"Life-changing money, most likely," Arthur confirms. "Alined had stashes of cash squirreled away all over the place, and we found all of it. Geoffrey must have magic powers."

"And the company funds will be untouched, so the transition will be smooth," Leon tells Percy.

Percy nods, still apparently in shocked. "Who's going to be warehouse manager now?" he asks.

"Duncan will," Gwen tells him. She reaches across the table and places her hand over his. "Percy, you'll be great. Daddy always spoke well of you. Said how smart you were, how you actually cared about what was goin' on there. That's the kind of person you want to be the big boss."

"Thank you, Gwen. Your father always spoke well of you, too. Both of you," he says, nodding at Elyan now. "You need a job, Elyan?" he asks suddenly.

"Nah, I'm a carpenter, man, I don't need to be workin' in no factory," Elyan chuckles.

"Thought I'd offer, since I'm suddenly now in charge of a company," Percy says, smiling finally. "What do you think of 'Andersen Paper?'" he asks.

"I like it," Gwen says, grinning back at him. "So what happens now?" she asks.

"Now," Leon stands, "I'm going to wait for Mr. Agravaine Boudreaux and escort his chunky backside back to Pendragon Law. Y'all can meet me back there later and I'll start givin' out checks."

"And then, tonight, we all meet up at Gwaine's and celebrate, all proper-like," Arthur says, standing as well. The rest follow suit and file out of the room into the hallway.

"So?" Merlin leaps on them immediately. "I've been dying out here."

"He has. Irish boy could not sit still," Gwaine confirms.

"Settling, as I predicted," Arthur says smugly.

"You are thoroughly enjoyin' this, Arthur," Gwen comments, laughing.

"Of course I am. I was right. What's not to enjoy?" he asks, his eyes twinkling at her in that way they do when he's thinking of things that he really has no business thinking of. "Gwaine, we're all gonna be descendin' on your place tonight, too."

"I would expect nothin' less," Gwaine nods. Then he winks at Gwen, earning him the briefest glare from Arthur. He just chuckles.

Aggy returns now, accompanied by one of the FBI agents. "All right, let's go."

"Mr. Pendragon," the agent stops as Aggy and Leon continue out the door.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. Godwin's been on this case for nine years. He's very happy to be able to put him away."

"No problem. You should be thanking Percy here, not me, though."

"Ah, Mr. Andersen," Agent Caerleon turns, looking up at him. "We've had cars driving past your mother's house at regular intervals. I don't think Delaine has any accomplices in the area, not that he would have had the opportunity to dispatch any of them if he did. Your mom is perfectly safe, son."

"Thank you, Mr…"

"Caerleon."

"Thank you, Mr. Caerleon."

"Mr. Pendragon, there is a reward…" he starts.

"Give it to Percy," Arthur answers immediately.

Gwen smiles. Percy gawks. "Th-thanks…"

"You deserve it. Get your mom something nice."

"Maybe I'll see if she wants to move down here…" he muses.

"Oh, Pendragon," Caerleon says just as he is about to return to the holding cells below.

"Hmm?"

"Tell your father I said hello."

"You know my pop?"

"Went to Harvard together," he nods, smiling a little mischievously, as though remembering some not-fit-for-mixed-company story.

"I'll tell him," Arthur says, watching the agent saunter away under puzzled brows.

xXx

"Arthur, it's her party, she'll be here," Merlin mutters in Arthur's ear as he walks past. Arthur keeps glancing at the door.

"She said she was coming, but what if she changes her mind?" Arthur asks.

"You have got it bad," Merlin comments. "She'll be here." He leans in closer. "And try to be a little less obvious, Arthur. Remember _she's_ the one that would be punished if you're found out."

Arthur slumps. "I know. It's hard, though. I told her that. I don't even realize I'm doin' it, most of the time."

"I just don't want to see either of you hurt or in trouble with the law, mate. And she just walked in with Elyan and Latoya."

"Latoya?" Arthur turns.

"Elyan's new ladyfriend. They've been talkin' to each other for a little while now, looks like he finally decided to introduce her to Gwen."

"Ah. Guinevere," he says, smiling at her as she approaches.

"See? Like that. You could light up a bloody room right now." He looks at Gwen now. "Hi, Gwen."

"Hey, Merlin. Hello, Arthur," she says.

"I gotta go play," Merlin says, waving. "She's just as bad," he mumbles to himself as he wanders away.

"Hey Elyan," Arthur says.

"Arthur," Elyan nods. "This is my girl, Latoya," he introduces the young lady at his side. She is tall, nearly as tall as Elyan.

"Nice to meet you, Latoya," Arthur offers his hand.

After a moment, she takes it, shaking it quickly. "Hello," she says. "Sorry, I'm not used to pretty white men wantin' to shake my hand."

"Quite all right," Arthur says. "I'm a little unusual."

"I'll say," Gwaine says, setting a tall glass of lemonade on the bar for Gwen and a bottle of Budweiser for Elyan. "Toya, what would you like, darlin'?"

"I'll have one o' them bottles," she says, nodding towards Elyan's beer.

Gwaine nabs Elyan's bottle before Elyan can get it and passes it to her, setting a glass beside it as well. "Here you are. Elyan, ladies first, you know that." He returns a moment later with another bottle for him.

"Let's get a table," Arthur says, hopping down from his barstool.

Percy arrives a short time later, followed closely by Duncan and his wife, Mary. Gwen hugs them both warmly, and Mary immediately starts crying.

"Now, Mary, don't you cry, or I'll start," Gwen says, patting her hand.

"Thank you so much, Gwen," Mary says.

"I didn't do nothin', Mary. It's me that should be thankin' Duncan." With that, she leans over and kisses Duncan on the cheek. "Thank you, Duncan. I know you'll be a great manager."

"Thanks, Gwen. You're Daddy's smilin' down on you today."

Ezra stops in briefly, but doesn't stay long. Arthur makes sure that he has the psychiatrist's phone number and reminds him to call right away on Monday. Duncan even offers to let him use the warehouse office phone to call.

"If that's all right with you, Boss," he looks at Percy.

"Perfectly fine. We want Ezra better, right?" Percy answers.

They listen to Merlin, Aaron, and Fred play. Gwaine brings out tray after tray of food. Some people dance. Percy taps his fingers on the table in time to the music.

"Is it hard? Not havin' part of a leg?" Gwen asks him.

"I'm used to it now," he shrugs.

"Wishin' you could dance, though?"

He laughs. "I couldn't much dance with two whole legs. But I like music."

Arthur has been chatting with everyone, but always keeping one eye on Gwen. He scoots his chair back over to their table. "Bet you can hop pretty good," he says, grinning.

"Arthur!" Gwen gasps, shocked.

Percy laughs though. "I am a world-champion hopper," he says. "It's all right, Gwen, I honestly wish more people would ask questions and even make jokes like Arthur just did. Beats getting stared at. I get that enough, being my size."

"I suppose you have a point. I suppose you get people judgin' you based on your looks, same as we do."

"Yeah. Everyone always assumes I'm stupid or violent."

"And you're neither of those," Arthur adds.

"Thank you. Like I said, I like music. Can't sing, can't play an instrument, but I like it. And I am bound and determined to learn how to make a proper southern biscuit if it kills me," he laughs.

"Well, I can help you out with that," Gwen says. "I'll share my granny's recipe with you, if you ask real nice," she leans in and says in a conspiratorial whisper.

"What are y'all whisperin' about?" Elyan asks, coming over with Latoya on his arm.

"Biscuits," Gwen declares.

"Of course," Elyan shrugs. "Gwen," he pokes his sister on the shoulder, "you should go sing."

"What?" Gwen asks.

"Sing?" Arthur asks.

"Gwen can sho'nuff sing," Elyan says.

"You've had too many beers already, Elyan," Gwen shrugs him off.

"I'd love to hear you sing," Arthur says quietly, smiling at her.

"See? Even Mr. Charlie wants to hear you sing!" Elyan exclaims.

"Elyan!" Both Gwen and Latoya yell now, but Arthur can only laugh.

"Please?" Elyan asks. "For Daddy?"

"Please?" Arthur asks quietly. "For me?"

"Well, shoot, now you done trapped me," Gwen sighs and gets up. "Don't start throwin' fruit, now," she threatens before she walks away from them, up to the corner that acts as a stage.

"Hey, Gwen," Merlin says, looking up briefly from the piano, not missing a note.

"I'm supposed to come sing with y'all," she says. She waves at Aaron and Fred, who both nod.

"Next song. Think about what you want to sing."

"I only know church songs," she says, biting her lip.

"We can work with that," Merlin says.

"Merlin's got some ears on him, and I ain't just talkin' 'bout they size," Fred says.

Merlin laughs, and Gwen hides her smile, looking away from him.

"Okay," Merlin declares when the song finishes. "What do you have for me?"

"Do you know 'Ain't-a That Good News?'"

"I do," Aaron and Fred both answer.

"Well I know _y'all_ know it," Gwen says, her hands on her hips. "We just sang it yesterday, that's why it's fresh in my mind."

"Start singin', Gwen, I'll catch on. Gospel?"

"O' course," she says. Then she sighs and turns toward the rest of the bar. _They're all looking. Just pretend it's a really dirty church._

"Waitin', Gwen…" Aaron cajoles from behind her.

"Hush, you!" she turns and waves her hand at him. When she looks back, her eyes meet Arthur's for a moment, and his expectant look both scares her and gives her confidence. _All right, Superman, here goes._

"I got a crown up in-a that kingdom, ain't-a that good news…" she starts singing, slowly at first. Fred joins in first, then Aaron with a light drum beat. After the first verse is half done, Merlin's got it and he joins in.

"Daddy used to say that Gwen's singin' could make the birds hang they heads in shame," Elyan says to Arthur.

Arthur just nods in agreement, watching her sing. _Don't be so obvious._ Merlin's advice comes back to him. "She has a very good voice, yes," he finally says. _She sounds like an angel._

She finishes, and everyone applauds and cheers loudly.

"More!" Elyan shouts.

Gwen rolls her eyes at her brother and starts to go back to her seat. "Get back here, Gwen," Merlin grabs her arm, grinning at her. "You heard your brother, he wants one more."

"Fine," she sighs. "I thought of another one. 'You Belong to Me' work for you?"

"Ooo, a newer one," Merlin says, cracking his knuckles theatrically, then launches into an introduction.

_I thought of another one looking at Arthur,_ Gwen realizes. She closes her eyes a moment to try and clear her head. _I hope I can remember the words._

"See the pyramids along the Nile. Watch the sunrise from a tropic isle. Just remember, darling, all the while You belong to me…"

She opens her eyes and braves a look at Arthur. _Not a good idea,_ she realizes, and quickly drops her eyes and concentrates on singing instead.

"You have a beautiful voice, Guinevere," Arthur says when she finally returns. He is alone at the table for the moment.

"Thank you," she says, reaching for her lemonade.

"It goes with the rest—"

"Don't."

"Right."

"It's getting late," she says. "I'd like to go to work tomorrow, but I have too much to do now."

"Got a big check to deposit," Arthur says.

"And one to write. I have to pay you still."

"You'll get a bill later, you don't have to pay right now," Arthur says, waving his hand dismissively. "If it was up to me I still wouldn't charge you, but I think Pop might frown on that."

"So would I," she says. "Thank you, Arthur." She puts her hand on his, just briefly, and moves to stand. She looks around for Elyan. "Where is he? Ah. Elyan!"

He comes over. "What?"

"I'm ready to go home."

"I ain't."

"Well, take me home and then you can come back." She peers at him. "On second thought, give me the car keys. You ain't fit to drive."

"How'm I gon' get home?" he asks.

"You can walk. Keys." Gwen holds out her hand and Elyan fishes into his pocket and hands them to her. "Toya, keep an eye on him," she tells Latoya.

"I will. Goodnight, Gwen," Latoya says.

Gwen says her goodbyes around, and when she gets to the door, Arthur is waiting for her.

"Arthur…"

"I'm just going to walk you to your car," he says.

"All right."

He opens the door for her and they walk out into the cool October night, walking silently until they reach the large green Impala.

"Thank you again, Arthur, for everything," she says. _Why is my heart pounding like this? I should be happy because we won, but I feel so forlorn. Now that I have no reason to, I may never see him again._

"It was a pleasure. You are very welcome, Guinevere." He pauses a moment. "I told you that this is what I do."

"Yes, Superman, you did."

Arthur's arms remember the shape of her, how she felt wrapped in his embrace. They long to reach out for her and pull her against him.

"Goodnight, Guinevere. It really was a pleasure," Arthur finally says.

Gwen sees his fingers twitching at his sides. She looks up and down the street. A car drives past, but it turns the corner, and they are left alone. She bites her lower lip and takes a step closer to him. _One hug. That's all._ As she reaches out with one hand, he finally breaks and pulls her into his arms, sighing heavily.

Gwen hugs him back this time, her hands on his broad back. She thinks she feels him kiss the top of her head, but she's not sure.

"Okay," she says, gently stepping back now. "Goodnight," she says and then hurries around to the driver's side of the car, gets in, and drives away while he stands there, watching her go.


	12. Chapter 12

Much later, the bar is mostly empty. Merlin comes over to sit beside an Arthur who has pretty much been moping on and off since Gwen left.

"She's not dead, Arthur," Merlin says, sitting down next to him.

"May as well be. I'll probably never see her again."

"You don't know that. I saw you walk her out before."

"Yeah."

"Did you kiss her?"

"She let me hug her. For a few seconds. I think I may have kissed the top of her head."

"You think? You don't know?"

"Pretty sure I did."

"Arthur, listen," Merlin says, leaning back in his chair. "You're clearly in love with her."

"Shh…" Arthur shushes him.

"Why? Who's left here? Gwaine? Got news for you, mate, he already knows."

"You told?"

"Didn't have to. He's smarter than he looks. Anyway, you want to be with her?"

"Yes."

"Then go somewhere where you can be together. Leave. Go north. It's legal there, right?"

"Leave? I've lived here all my life, Merlin. So has Guinevere." Arthur sounds unsure, but he looks as though he is thinking it over.

"Arthur, do you love Gwen?"

"Yes."

"You can't be together here. I mean, look at my mum and me. She didn't like how things were where we lived, so we left. Easy."

"It's not easy, Merlin."

"Yes, it is, Arthur."

"Where would I go?"

"Don't you have family up north? A cousin or something in… Minnesota?" Merlin asks, gesturing vaguely.

"Uncle Gaius, in Milwaukee. That's Wisconsin."

"He's a lawyer as well, I assume?"

"Of course."

"Call him. I'd be willing to bet he'll have a place for you at the northern branch of Pendragon Law."

"What about Guinevere?"

"Surely there are schools in Milwaukee, Arthur."

"But…"

"What now?"

"What if she says no?"

"Then she says no. But you won't know unless you ask."

xXx

Tuesday morning, Arthur finishes up his paperwork from the trial. He left the billing business to Leon, unable to face extracting money from his Guinevere. _It feels like theft._

He has trouble keeping his mind on his work, his brain drifting between thoughts of calling his uncle and the dream he had last night.

_I soar above the city, one arm outstretched, the other holding Guinevere to my side. My Lois Lane. My red cape flaps in the wind behind us as we ascend to the stars, and I steer north, leaving Memphis behind us._

"Arthur?" Uther pokes his head in the door, snapping Arthur out of his Superman dream memory.

"Yeah? Oh, hey, Pop."

"Congratulations. You did us proud. You did yourself proud, Son."

"Thanks, Dad. Luck was on our side, though. Man was a grade-A sleaze."

"Well, he's going to be put away for probably the rest of his life now, because of your efforts. Well done."

"Thanks," Arthur says again.

"So would you care to explain to me why it looks like someone just shot your dog, then?" Uther sits.

"What? Oh. Just a bit tired, I guess. Adrenaline from the trial has worn off," Arthur says. _Merlin was right. I have to stop being so obvious._

"So, nothing to do with a pretty colored girl whom you no longer have an excuse to see regularly?" Uther pries.

"Maybe a little," Arthur admits.

"Or a lot," Uther corrects. "Arthur, it's for the best. It can't happen, not here. I'm sorry you're upset, but until the law changes, that's how it is. And unfortunately, we don't know when that law will change. If it ever will. Try to put your feelings aside, Arthur. It's just too dangerous for her."

"I know," Arthur says with a sigh. "Thanks, Dad. I'm glad I was able to show you that I'm capable of more than handling traffic violations."

"Oh, I knew that all along, Arthur. But I also know that you never like having anything just _handed_ to you," Uther says, chuckling. He stands. "All right. I'll let you finish your work there. Have lunch with me?"

"I have plans already," Arthur lies. "Rain check?"

"Okay," Uther nods, and turns to leave.

"Oh, hey, Pop?"

"Yes?"

"I'm supposed to tell you that… Bob Caerleon says hello."

Uther just snorts a laugh, obviously in on the same secret joke that the FBI agent was smirking about, and leaves.

The door closes, and Arthur counts to ten, just to make sure his father is gone. Then he flips through the Rolodex on his desk and finds the number he is looking for.

A minute later, a friendly voice answers the phone. "Pendragon Law Offices, this is Elena, may I help you?"

"Elena, Arthur Pendragon. How are you?"

"Mr. Pendragon! How nice to hear from you. I'm very good, how are things down south?"

"Probably warmer than they are in Milwaukee," he jokes.

"Probably? Try definitely."

Arthur chuckles. "Is Gaius available?"

"Yes, he's in. I'll transfer you. Take care," she says.

"Thanks, you too."

A moment later Arthur hears his uncle's voice. "Gaius Pendragon."

"Uncle Gaius?"

"Arthur! This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you, my boy?"

"Well, I'm actually wondering if you can help me with something," Arthur says, tapping his pen on his desktop nervously.

"Anything for my favorite nephew," Gaius says indulgently.

"I'm going to bypass the fact that I'm your _only_ nephew," Arthur says. "But I possibly need a favor. Quite a large one. Maybe."

xXx

"Really, Gwen? You want to do this? I mean, thank you, but don't you need it?" The principal of Gwen's school is sitting at his desk, staring at the check in his hands.

"Not really," Gwen shrugs. "Elyan and I paid off the mortgage on our house first, and then we split the rest of the settlement."

"This isn't _all_ of your share, is it?" he asks, setting the check on his desk, swiping his hand up over his bald brown head, a nervous gesture he gets when he's agitated. _Probably why he's bald. He rubbed all his hair off._

"I kept a little for myself," she tells him. _Not that it's any of your business._ "But I want this school to have something. Buy some new books for the children. Replace those broken swings in the playground. I just hate it that everything we have is secondhand just because we're a colored school."

"You're insisting?"

"I am. Make sure it gets used on things for the _children,_ Earl. Promise me."

"I promise, Gwen. For the children. Thank you. And congratulations on winning your case."

Gwen stands. "Technically, we settled. But I reckon that's still a win. Plus a no-good child rapist got put where he belongs, so more's the better."

"What?" Earl asks.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Earl, didn't you read the papers this mornin'? It was on the front page."

"Oh…" he leans over, reaching for a newspaper on the windowsill behind him. "Oh. _Oh._"

"Trial took an unexpected turn," Gwen chuckles. _Unexpected for Alined, that is._ "Have a good one, Earl."

"Hmm?" the principal is absorbed in the article now. "Oh, yes, you too, Gwen."

xXx

Gwen spends the afternoon at home, catching up on laundry and housework, two things that have languished while she concentrated on the trial.

_"I came straight up here and took a long, hot bubble bath."_ Scrubbing her bathtub, she remembers saying this to Arthur on Sunday. _Why on earth did I tell him that? Obviously I wasn't thinking. Obviously it put images in his head. I just can't think straight around him sometimes._ She leans back and turns the water on, rinsing the cleanser down the drain, swishing the water with her hand to get it all rinsed.

_I wonder what he's doin' right now? Surely not scrubbin' his bathtub._ She chuckles to herself as the image of Arthur scrubbing _anything_ crosses her mind's eye.

Gwen stands and wipes her hands on the apron she is wearing. She looks at her reflection in the mirror, her face slightly sweaty from working, her hair held back in a kerchief to keep it out of her way. _I look like someone's maid,_ she thinks, frowning at herself. _I am also done cleaning. Tired._

She turns the faucet on in the sink and leans forward, splashing cool water on her face. She dries her face, pulls the scarf from her head, and re-secures the ponytail in back, choosing to leave it in for the time being. As she reaches for the ties of her apron, she hears a knock at her door.

"Gwen? You in?"

"Yes, Elyan, what do you want?" she calls back.

"I brought home some pork chops and greens from the market that are just beggin' for some love from my big sister."

Gwen sighs and leaves her apron on, walking to the door.

"_They_ are begging, or you?" She open the door and gives him the look she learned from her mama.

"Okay, me. Cook us supper?"

_It'll keep my mind off of other things,_ she decides. _Things I need to stop thinkin' about._

After dinner, Elyan announces that he's going to meet Latoya at Gwaine's and actually asks if Gwen wants to come along.

"No, I don't think so," she says. _Arthur might be there,_ a nagging voice inside mentions. "I'm still dead tired; I think I'm going to go upstairs and look at the television."

As Elyan drives off in his truck, Gwen heads upstairs and pulls her apron off finally, depositing it in the hamper. She goes into her bedroom, intending to just put her pajamas on and make an early evening of it when she glances out her bedroom window and sees what she thinks is a familiar figure outside. _Is that Arthur? What is he doin' here?_

_ Wait… why is he walkin' away?_

She watches him drop into the seat of his car, but he doesn't start the engine. He sits. Then he gets out again. He starts walking back to the house, gets halfway there, and stops.

Suddenly wide awake, Gwen holds her breath and hides behind the drapes, not sure if she wants him to see her peeking.

He turns around and goes back to his car again, and she slumps against the wall.

_It hurts,_ she realizes. _This is what it feels like when your heart breaks._

She hears his car start and, before she can think, she grabs the keys to the Impala and runs down the stairs and out the door.

_I'm gonna get arrested for being in this neighborhood,_ she thinks as she walks slowly up to the door of his building. She scans the list of buttons, finding the one with _A. Pendragon_ next to it and pressing it.

"Hello?"

She almost loses her nerve. "…Arthur?"

"Guinevere?"

"Yes… can I—"

A crass buzzing sound interrupts her before she can even ask, and she pulls the door open and enters the building, climbing the stairs to the second floor.

She knocks quietly on the door and he opens it immediately. She steps inside without a word.

"Guinevere, I…"

"I followed you here," she says. "I saw you. Out the window."

"I…"

The look on his face tears at Gwen's heart. She wouldn't have thought that a single person could feel so many emotions at once. _My face probably looks similar,_ she realizes.

"I'm scared, Guinevere," he finally says. "Now that the trial's over… I'm scared that I'll never see you again. The thought of not getting to see you every day, not getting to spend time with you anymore, just…"

They are standing just inside his door, staring at each other, both too afraid to move, too afraid to speak their true feelings.

"I know," she whispers.

"You do?"

She nods, blinking back tears that she can't explain.

"I…" he trails off a moment, trying to summon his courage. "Would you like to sit?" he blurts.

"Yes, thank you," she says, exhaling heavily. He ushers her to a leather sofa, sitting beside her.

"Guinevere," he starts again, his fingers drumming nervously on his knees, "I think… I think I'm in love with you."

Gwen gasps. Her heart races. She feels warm all over. Then he takes her hand softly in his and she feels slightly faint.

"No… I know I'm in love with you. I've never met anyone like you. You've turned my world on its head, and I've… I've never been happier than I am when I'm with you."

"Arthur, I…"

"If you tell me you don't feel the same, I will never bother you again," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Arthur, if I didn't feel the same I wouldn't have followed you across town," she says.

"Oh," he says dumbly, opening his eyes, which are suddenly lit with some mysterious inner flame that Gwen can feel burning in her belly.

She closes her eyes. "I do love you, Arthur," she admits. "I've loved you for probably longer than I'd be willing to admit."

He smiles then, and exhales the breath that she didn't know he was holding.

"So what now?" she asks, her heart dropping again as she lets reality creep in.

"Well," Arthur says, studying her slender hand clasped in his, noting how small it looks compared to his own. He strokes the soft brown skin on the back of her hand with his thumb once, and continues. "Long term, I'm not sure yet. But right now… I'd really like to kiss you."

Gwen gasps softly, her lush lips parting, and all Arthur wants to do is dive into them and never look back. Instead, he swallows and says, "That is, if I have your permission."

Unable to speak, Gwen nods, her heart pounding furiously as he leans towards her, his free hand rising to cup her cheek and gently tilt her face to meet him.

His lips touch hers, soft, undemanding. Almost polite. Gwen's eyes flutter closed and the hand he is not holding comes to rest on his upper arm. She feels him start to withdraw and suffers the briefest moment of panic. Her body acts once again before her brain can catch up, squeezing his arm just a little and leaning forward slightly, pressing her lips more firmly against his.

_Don't go away yet,_ she seems to say. Arthur's hand moves slightly, his fingers brushing the soft curls behind her ear, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek. He fights the urge to slant his mouth hungrily over hers and part her delicious lips with his greedy tongue.

_You are a gentleman._

Finally they break away from each other, their lungs crying out for air. They stare into each other's eyes, breathing heavily, reeling.

"Come away with me," Arthur finally says, his voice soft but rushed, as if he is afraid there is someone listening at the door, someone who is going to burst in and snatch her away from him.

"What?" Gwen asks. _Did he just say what I thought he said?_

He lifts her hand and presses it to his chest, and Gwen can feel his heart pounding furiously beneath her palm. "I… I want to be with you, Guinevere. I love you. I need you. But we can't be together here. Let me take you away, to somewhere where we'd be allowed to be _us._ Where we could even be… married."

_Married?_

"Oh my…" she breathes, unable to form any coherent thoughts yet.

"Do you feel my heart, Guinevere? This is what you do to me. I just think about you and it starts to beatin' like this."

"Arthur…"

He drops his hand from over hers, thinking she's about to turn him down. But to his surprise, she leaves her hand there, over his heart.

"It's just so much..." she starts. "In a few short moments we've gone from 'I'll miss spending time with you' to 'I love you' to 'let's run away and get married.' My mind is all a-flurry…"

"I'm going to kiss you again," he says, then leans over before she has a chance to answer.

_My, but his lips are soft._ The thought floats unbidden into Gwen's brain. Arthur's hand is at her cheek again; his other tentatively touches her waist, holding her gently. Her fingers curl against his chest, catching on his shirt buttons.

This kiss is slightly different. It's less polite, more ardent, as if he is trying to convince her without using words.

Arthur breaks the kiss this time, gazing into her lovely brown eyes as he backs away.

"I can't think when you do that…" she says, gasping slightly, finally dropping her hand from his chest.

"That means I'm doin' it right," he says, a small impish grin playing about his lips. "And I ain't even kissed you properly yet," he adds, muttering almost to himself.

Her eyes widen at that prospect for just a moment, but then she stands and moves a distance away. "I just need to think a minute," she says. "And I can't do that when you're so close."

"What's to think about?" Arthur asks. "You love me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life by my side and let me take care of you and love you and make you feel like you are the luckiest woman who ever walked the earth?"

_Oh, Lord._ "Yes," she says quietly, overwhelmed.

"Then come to Milwaukee with me."

"Milwaukee?"

"I have an uncle there. He's willing to take us in for a bit. To help us out. And mixed race marriage ain't illegal in Wisconsin."

"Arthur, do you really think your daddy's gonna let you spend his money so you can run off and marry a colored girl?" she asks, confusing tears pooling in her eyes now.

"I don't need his money, Guinevere. I have my own. And you have… you didn't keep any of your settlement money, did you?" It's more of a statement than it is a question.

She looks down. "I kept a little. We paid off the house before we split it. Then I gave most of my share to my school."

Arthur smiles. "Smart girl. I knew it from the first moment I saw you."

"Arthur, what do you mean, you have your own money?"

He stands and crosses to her. "I have a trust fund from my mother. I wasn't able to touch it till I was 25. I've been 25 for six months now. It's just sittin' there, waitin' to be cashed in."

"How much?" she asks quietly, knowing full well that it's none of her business but also knowing full well he'll willingly tell her.

"I don't exactly know," he says, furrowing his brow. "Somewhere around eleven million dollars, I think."

Her face is blank. "I can't even comprehend that amount of money, Arthur," she finally says, her mind reeling. She turns slightly, toward the window

"Please?" His voice is quiet, plaintive.

Gwen sighs. "Just because we're _allowed_ to get married there doesn't mean that people are gonna necessarily _like_ the idea, Arthur," she says, looking out the window, down at the darkening street.

"Do _you_ like the idea?" he asks, standing right behind her but not touching.

"Yes," she whispers.

"I know _I_ like the idea. What do we care whether anyone else likes it?"

"Arthur…" she sighs.

"Look, I realize that it won't always be smooth sailing," he says, stepping even closer, his hands on her upper arms, rubbing up and down, "but I'm willing to take the risk, because you are worth it to me. The rewards outweigh the dangers, as far as I can see." He leans forward and kisses the top of her head.

"When?" she finally says.

"We can leave right now if you want," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

"Arthur, don't talk nonsense! We've got jobs, you gotta tell your Daddy, I gotta tell Elyan. Oh, Lord, Elyan…"

"If it's all the same to you, I don't wanna be there when you tell him," Arthur says.

"_I_ don't wanna be there when I tell him," she says dryly, turning around now. "But he deserves to know. We can't just sneak off in the middle of the night like a couple of criminals."

"Will your work be a problem?" Arthur asks, his fingers toying with a curl at her shoulder.

"Prob'ly not. I've been gone so much this fall between Daddy's death and the trial, and I'm sure the substitute teacher'd jump at the chance to have my job."

"So, when? Soon, please…"

"What day is today? Lord, I don't even know the day anymore…"

"Tuesday," he says softly, his finger tracing the line of her jaw.

She closes her eyes. "Saturday?"

Arthur smiles broadly. "Saturday," he repeats, pulling her to him and wrapping her in his arms. He feels her arms move around his waist and his heart soars as they stand there, just holding each other close.

He pulls back slightly and lifts her chin again, slowly moving them away from the window. "I think we need to seal our agreement. Properly," he purrs, implications plain in his voice.

"Properly?" she asks, suddenly feeling at least ten degrees warmer.

"Mmm-hmm," he says, swooping down to capture her lips with his, swiftly and softly, gently taking her lower lip between his, savoring the succulent flesh. His tongue slips forward now, and he feels the jolt that runs through her when his tongue caresses her upper lip, coaxing her lips apart for him.

Gwen whimpers softly and parts her lips, allowing his tongue to slide in between them. Her curious tongue touches his once, a soft flick, and his arms tighten around her. So she does it again, and again, until their tongues are dancing, caressing each other within the confines of their joined mouths, the world and all its troubles forgotten for just a few moments.

Finally they release one another, breathless and scattered, wanting more but not daring to take it.

"I declare," Gwen whispers, "there was nothing proper about that at _all._"

Arthur looks mortified for a moment, afraid he's pushed too far, too soon. Then he sees the glimmer in her eye as she stands there literally fanning herself with her hand, and his face splits into a grin.


	13. Chapter 13

Gwen tells him the next night. Already wrung out from trying to explain why she's leaving to both her morning and afternoon students, she decides to get it all out of the way right away, like tearing a bandage off.

Because she really doesn't have much time.

"Elyan, I need to talk to you," Gwen says after supper. Tonight she willingly cooked for him, deciding to try and ply him with her good cooking before dropping a nuclear bomb on him.

"What about?" Elyan asks.

"I'm… I'm movin'."

"Oh. Um, okay. Don't want to live above your brother anymore? I won't ask you to cook supper for me so much…"

"I'm movin' _away,_ Elyan. Out of Memphis," she interrupts quietly.

"What?"

"I'm fixin' to move up north. With… with Arthur."

"_What?_"

"We want to get married."

Elyan leaps to his feet, nearly toppling his chair. "You knocked up? So help me, if he got you pregnant, I am gon' kill him," he fumes, starting for the door as he talks, his hands balled into tight fists. "I don't care, he's gon' _die…_"

"_Elyan Thomas, you come back here and sit your butt down this instant!_" Gwen yells, her voice indignant.

Elyan stops in his tracks. _She sounds just like Mama used to._ He turns around and comes back to the table, watching her standing there, fists on her hips and fire in her eyes. He meekly sits.

"Is that the kind of girl you think I am? You think I'm the kind of girl who'd just open her legs for some white man – any man, for that matter – just 'cause he's handsome and he talks pretty? Is that what you think of me?" She is yelling full-tilt now.

"Uh—"

"You are my brother, Elyan, you know that's not how Mama and Daddy raised us! Even so, I _thought_ you knew me better than that!"

"So you're not pregnant?" he asks, his voice very small.

"I am not even gonna dignify that question with an answer," Gwen huffs. "Honestly, Elyan. Is that really what you think of me?"

"No."

"Then why was it the first thing you thought of? Or do you have somethin' to confess yourself?"

"No!" his eyes grow wide. "Toya and me ain't even…" he trails off. "I don't know why it was the first thing that came to mind."

"I thought you liked Arthur now." She sits again.

"I do. I just wasn't expectin'… When did this happen?" He's gone from furious to perplexed.

"When did what happen?"

"You and him. You been sneakin' around somewhere?"

"No! I don't know exactly when or exactly how. It just did. Then the trial ended, and we both realized – separately – that the thought of never seein' each other again was… unacceptable."

"Unacceptable?" Elyan raises his eyebrows.

"Heartbreaking," Gwen admits. She looks at her brother. "I love him, Elyan. And he loves me. He wants to marry me. We can't do that here."

"So you're gon' leave me here all alone to go be with Mr. Charlie?" he asks, but he is smiling just a little now.

"You could… come with us. I'm sure people need things fixed and built in Milwaukee."

"Milwaukee? Why Milwaukee?"

"Arthur has kin there," she shrugs. "And coloreds and whites can get married there, too."

"Convenient. But no, I ain't gonna come with y'all and be no third wheel."

"I didn't think you would. 'Specially considerin' Latoya's here."

Elyan looks down at his hands.

"I do like her, Elyan. Don't mess it up."

"Gwen, this ain't about me and Toya," Elyan says, looking back up at her. "Who's gon' look after me?"

"Elyan," she says, putting her hand over his, "you're a grown man. Time to start actin' like one. You don't need me around to keep an eye on you and make you supper."

"I know," he admits.

"Toya can do that now. If you'll let her."

He smiles finally. "When you leavin'?"

"Saturday."

"_This_ Saturday?"

Gwen nods. "I'm gonna need you to send my things after. Merlin will help you. He's got all the information. You won't even need to pay nothin'. Arthur's got an account set up with the UPS."

"Oh, Mr. Charlie has money, then?"

"Yes," Gwen admits with a heavy sigh. "Turns out he's got money comin' out o' his ears. His Mama left him a big, fat trust fund."

"Oh, so you're marryin' him for his money. I can understand that," Elyan teases.

"Yes, Elyan, I'm marryin' him for money I didn't even know he had until after I'd already decided I was gon' marry him," she says, rolling her eyes at him.

"What am I gon' do with this house?" Elyan asks then.

"Well, it's paid for now. Do whatever you want. I'm sure you could find someone to rent the apartment once my stuff is out. Or I know you've always thought about convertin' it to a one-family house. Do that. Make it a nice home for you and, oh, maybe Toya. Who knows?"

"I might do that," he muses.

"So we have your blessing?" Gwen asks. "I mean, not that I _need_ it, you know I'm gonna do what I want regardless. It'd just be easier knowin' you're not gon' be a… a jive-ass turkey about all this."

"Just… call me when you get to Milwaukee," he says. Gwen jumps up and pulls her brother to his feet and hugs him tightly.

xXx

"Hello?" Arthur answers after just a couple rings.

"Hey," Gwen says. "I told him."

"Well, you're alive, that's good. Do I need to double-lock my doors? Or call Jim and have him send squads past at regular intervals?" he asks.

"No, you're not in danger. He's all right, I think. Now, anyway."

"Was it bad?"

"He accused me of being pregnant."

Arthur pauses. "We may hear that question a lot, Guinevere. Just to warn you. I mean, _I_ know that you would never… um… but other people…"

"But my own _brother?_ It hurt."

"I'm sorry, Guinevere."

"Thank you. And I did let him have it with both barrels about that, too."

"That's my girl," Arthur says, smiling. "Guinevere, is Elyan home tonight?"

"So far," she answers.

"Do you think it'd be all right if I came by and talked to him myself? You know, man to man? Let him know that my intentions are honorable?"

"Um—"

"Yes, I _know_ he's your younger brother, but he's also the only family you've got left, and…"

"_Arthur,_" Gwen interrupts him.

"Hmm?"

"I think he would appreciate the gesture. I'll go down and make sure he stays home."

"Thank you. I'll be over in ten minutes."

"Okay," Gwen says, her hand reaching up to check her hair now.

"Oh, and Guinevere? I love you."

"I love you, too, Arthur," she says, smiling.

xXx

It took longer than the promised ten minutes, but Arthur eventually came knocking. When she saw the 12-pack of Budweiser in his hand, she knew what had kept him.

"Arthur…" she says, shaking her head at him.

"Peace offering," he explains as he walks inside. Gwen is tempted to peek out the door to see if anyone's looking, but decides against it. _That would only look more suspicious._

"That might actually work," she says. He leans in to give her a kiss.

"No," she whispers. "I want to, but not now."

"Right," he nods, a little disappointed, but he understands.

"Elyan, Arthur's here," Gwen says, leading Arthur into the living room.

"I figured that when I heard the door," Elyan says. Gwen switches the television off.

"I'll leave you two to talk," she says.

"Are you going upstairs?" Elyan asks.

"Yes. So _behave yourself,_" she says pointedly at Elyan. As she walks out the door, she hears Arthur clear his throat.

"Beer?" Arthur pulls a bottle from the box and offers it.

Elyan gives him a sideways look, but then takes the bottle. "Thanks." He reaches over to a side table and produces a bottle opener. He opens his bottle and then passes the opener to Arthur.

"Thanks."

Both men take long drinks from their bottles, each waiting for the other to speak first.

"So…"

"Um…"

Arthur sets his beer down. "Elyan, I love your sister."

Elyan nods. "She told me."

"Well, I do. I know it's not smart and it's not safe and it's not even legal, really, but I do. I want to marry her, and she says she wants to marry me. It would really mean a lot to both of us if you were okay with it."

"You ain't askin' for my blessin'," Elyan says.

"No, I ain't. You and I both know that Guinevere's gonna do what she wants to do regardless of what either of us says," Arthur says, chuckling. "I'm simply askin' that you accept me as Guinevere's choice."

"I love my sister," Elyan says.

"I know. That's why it's important to her that you're okay with all this."

"I do want her to be happy." He takes another long pull from his bottle.

"Elyan, I promise you that I will make her happy. We ain't foolish enough to think that movin' north's gonna solve all our problems. I can't promise you that _other_ people won't make her unhappy. All I can promise is that _I_ will make her happy and if others upset her, I'll be there to dry her tears or hold her hand or punch someone out, whatever she needs."

Elyan nods again and takes another drink, draining his bottle. He reaches for another. "Can I ask why?"

"Why what?"

"Why her? I mean, I know she's special; she's my big sister. But you're a handsome rich white boy lawyer. You could have any gal you wanted, man, how is it you fell for a poor colored girl?"

Arthur ponders his bottle, picking at the label with his fingernails. "I don't see it that way at all," he says finally, finishing his beer and reaching for another.

"You don't?"

"Uh-uh," Arthur shakes his head. "The only thing you said that I agree with is that Guinevere is special. And that she's your big sister. Just because I _could_ get any gal doesn't mean I want just _any_ gal. Hell, I recently learned that the receptionist at my office has been makin' eyes at me for months. I didn't even notice! And that was goin' on before I even met Guinevere."

"She pretty?"

"Yeah, I guess, if you like that type," Arthur shrugs.

"What type is that?"

"She looks like one o' them Barbie dolls. And she's almost as smart as one."

Elyan chuckles. "You still ain't answered my question."

"Why do I love Guinevere?"

Elyan nods.

"I've never met anyone like her. She's… genuine. Real. Like… you know that she ain't puttin' on a front or bein' who she thinks you want her to be. She's herself, all the time. And she's smart. She's also the strongest person I've ever met."

"Strongest?"

"Well, yeah. The way she still made it through college, graduatin' with honors, even, while takin' care of you and your dad, and right after your mama died? I would have just pulled the blankets over my head and given up."

"You wouldn't have," Elyan says. "But you're right. I don't know how she did it. Me and Daddy… we fell apart when mama died. Gwen held us together. And still did good enough in school to keep her scholarship."

"She's also beautiful and kind," Arthur says. "Sings like an angel. And I've heard she's a good cook, too, though I haven't gotten to sample any o' her cookin'. Yet."

"You gon' get fat, Arthur," Elyan says, laughing.

"You ain't."

"I grew up on it," Elyan shrugs, as if that explains everything. He puts the second bottle aside, now empty, and reaches for a third.

"All I know is Monday night, when she left, I thought my life was going to end because I didn't know how I'd get to see her again. The very idea of not seein' her again felt like a knife in my heart."

"She said kinda the same thing," Elyan admits.

"Did she?"

"Don't go gettin' all eager lookin' there. But yes, she did."

Arthur chuckles and cracks his third bottle.

xXx

Gwen looks up from her book, hearing a noise. _Is Arthur still here? I don't think I heard him leave._ She slides out of bed, glancing at the clock. 11:33. She looks out the window. Arthur's car is still parked outside.

A thump. Male laughter. _They're drunk. Arthur needs to go home. He can't sleep here._ She sighs and pulls some clothes on, just a pair of Capris and a shirt, and heads downstairs.

"Guinevere!" Arthur's face breaks into a bleary grin when she appears.

"Arthur, I think you need to go home," she says, speaking like she is addressing one of her five-year-old students. One of her _naughty_ five-year-old students.

"But we were gon'… what were we gon' do?" Elyan asks, his face crumpling in confusion.

"We were… oh yeah. I was gon' teach you how to play poker…" Arthur slurs.

Shaking her head, she walks over. "You both have to work tomorrow, and I got things to do, too. Elyan," she hoists her brother to his feet and points him towards his bedroom, "go to bed."

"Aw, Gwennie…" he complains, letting her gently push him to his room. Arthur is giggling on the sofa behind them. "Put your damn shoes on, Arthur," she shoots over her shoulder.

Once she's gotten Elyan onto his bed, she heads back out. "Come on, baby, I'll drive you home," she says softly, lifting Arthur by his elbow.

"Baby…" he repeats, grinning. "You called me baby…"

"Yes, I did, now move those feet."

"'Kay."

She moves with purpose, businesslike and proper, bundling him into her car.

"Wait, this ain't my car…"

"No, it's mine," Gwen says, starting the engine and pulling out.

"How am I gon' get my car?"

"You should have thought of that before you came to my house with a case o' beer. And mind that hand o' yours don't go no higher," she says, his hand having found her knee as soon as she sat. It's been creeping higher as she drives.

"Oh…" is all he can think to say.

"Maybe Merlin will take pity on you and drive your sorry tail back over here to collect your car tomorrow."

"You could…"

"I could _not_ and you know it. It's enough I'm drivin' you home now."

Arthur closes his eyes and leans his head back. "Elyan likes me again."

"Good. Don't fall asleep."

"'M not sleepin'…"

Gwen just sighs. _At least he's an affectionate drunk, not a mean one. He's actually kind of silly._

A short time later, she pulls up in front of Arthur's building, helps him out of the car and up the steps.

"Key," she holds her hand out.

"'Sin my pocket," he says, grinning at her and angling his hip toward her suggestively.

"All right, then, please take it out of your pocket and I will unlock your door for you," she says calmly, again using her kindergarten-teacher voice.

"No fun at all…" he mutters, shoulders slumping as he digs into his pocket and puts a key ring in her hand. "That one," he points, poking his finger into her palm.

Gwen bites back her laughter at him as she unlocks the door and helps him up the stairs, where she unlocks his apartment door.

"Goodnight, Arthur," she says, placing the keys on the coffee table.

"You're not goin' to tuck me in?" he asks, pouting.

"Arthur, it's midnight. And I shouldn't even be here." _Again._ She looks around and suddenly notices that he's been busier packing than she has. _Of course, he has more things than I do._

"Please? I'll behave…"

"I doubt it," she says, but relents, taking his arm again and heading to a short hallway.

"This way," he points.

She takes him into his room and sets him on his bed after pulling the covers back, pulling his shoes from his feet. "That's all I'm doin'. You can take the rest off yourself or sleep in your clothes."

"Okay," he says, still pouting slightly, but he is falling asleep already.

Gwen covers him up and kisses his forehead. "Goodnight," she whispers to him.

"'Night," he mumbles. "Love you…"


	14. Chapter 14

_Post office_

_ Try to find a winter coat (may have to wait till we get there)_

_Don't forget Mama's dress_

Gwen is making a list of things she needs to do and/or remember before Saturday, 4:30 a.m. Her doorbell rings, breaking her train of thought.

"Who could that be at this hour?" she mutters to herself. _It's 10:15 in the morning, everyone should be at work._

She opens the door and is faced with a bouquet of roses. "Guinevere Thompson?" the roses ask.

"Yes," she says, taking the bouquet, uncovering the man standing behind them.

"Delivery for you. Have a good day," he nods and trots back down to his truck.

"Thank you…" she calls after him, smelling them. There is a card attached, but she knows who they're from.

Gwen brings them upstairs, smiling to herself. She frowns a little as she digs out a vase, realizing that she's leaving in a couple days and won't get to enjoy them for very long.

_Still, he's very sweet._ She opens the card. _Sorry for getting drunk with your brother last night. Love you, A._

"Silly," she mutters, then picks up the phone.

"Pendragon Law Offices, this is Vivian, may I help you?"

"Hello, Vivian, this is Guinevere Thompson. May I speak to Arthur, please?"

"Yes, just one moment," Vivian answers, clearly puzzled as to why Gwen is calling, since the trial is over.

"Arthur Pendragon."

"Thank you for the flowers," Gwen says.

"You are quite welcome, my love."

"It wasn't necessary, though."

"Of course it wasn't. That's the whole point."

Gwen giggles at this, and Arthur continues.

"I do feel really bad that you had to haul my sorry butt home last night, though. Thank you again. Merlin's gonna take me to get my car at lunch. You gonna be home?"

"Probably. Got some things to do, but I might be around," she says evasively. Intentionally evasively.

"Guinevere, are you playin' coy with me?"

"I might be."

"You are much braver on the phone, I've noticed."

"Phone is safe. No one can see us talkin' like we're a couple of lovesick fools."

"Soon, darlin', soon."

"I know. Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Have you told your father yet?"

He says nothing, and she has her answer.

"Arthur…"

"I know."

"You gotta tell him. He's your only family."

"I will."

"When, Friday night? You gonna call him at ten p.m. and say, 'Hey, Pop, just callin' to let you know I'm gonna be gone by the time you get up tomorrow mornin' 'cause I'm elopin' with a colored girl'?"

"Guinevere…"

"Don't 'Guinevere' me, Arthur. You have got to tell him."

"I know I should."

"But?"

"_But_ I don't want to hear what he's goin' to have to say. He's goin' to try to convince me not to leave."

"You don't know that."

"I'm pretty sure. He's got nothin' against you, Guinevere, I want you to know that. He says he likes you. But he just… follows the letter of the law, and the law here says we can't get married."

"That's why we're movin'. He'll understand that."

"I hope so."

"He's your daddy and he loves you. Besides, if he finds out that your uncle knows and you couldn't even tell _him…_"

"Okay, you're right, you're right. You're always right, darn it. I'll… I'll have dinner with him tonight and tell him then. He'll behave himself in a public place like a restaurant."

"You're overreacting, I'm sure."

"Well, I hope you're right."

"Arthur, didn't you say your father moved here from Boston to be with your mama?"

Arthur is silent again.

"That's what I thought," Gwen says, smirking. "You'll be fine, baby, just explain how we feel about each other and he'll understand. He may even be happy for you for standing up for your convictions."

"I just feel like I'm abandoning him."

"Did he love your mother?"

"That's a strange question."

"Did he?"

"Yes, very much," Arthur admits quietly.

"He'll understand."

"Maybe."

"Well, 'maybe' is better than 'I hope so,' I guess."

"Trying to be positive. Ish."

Gwen laughs now. "Try harder. If you think it's going to turn out badly, it will."

"You're right," he sighs.

"Arthur?" she asks, suddenly unsure herself now.

"Hmm?"

"I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't push."

"No, you should. I need you pushin' me."

"You do?"

"Well, yeah. You push me to be a better man, don't you know that?"

"I do?"

"Guinevere…" he sighs, chuckling. "You underestimate yourself. Of course you do. I love you, so I want to be the best I can for you."

"Oh. I… I just didn't want you to think I was naggin' already."

He laughs now. "Never."

"I should let you go. You're at work, and I have to go to the post office."

"If you must. I probably should at least look like I'm doin' somethin'," he says. "Something other than secretly packing, I mean. See you around lunchtime, Guinevere."

"If I'm here," she teases.

Arthur snorts. "Love you."

"Love you, too. 'Bye, Arthur."

xXx

Gwen finds herself continually peeking out the window as soon as noon arrived. She looks out, chastises herself for being foolish, and goes back to packing. Five minutes later, she repeats the cycle all over again.

Finally she sees a strange car pull up and Merlin and Arthur climb out. Gwen wipes her hands on a towel and heads downstairs, wondering what she should do. _I can't invite them in. I can't stand out here talkin' with them too long or the neighbors will start askin' questions._

She steps outside and, to her shock, Merlin waves at Mrs. Barry next door, who is sitting on her porch in her rocker. She waves back, puzzled, but Merlin's friendly grin cannot be ignored.

"Merlin…" she says, smiling, but her voice is quiet and stern.

"What? I was just bein' friendly."

Gwen sighs and looks at the cloudless sky.

"Nothin' you can do about him, Guinevere," Arthur says. "Oh, here, make it look like I'm comin' here for a reason." He hands her an envelope.

"What's this?"

"Your bill."

"Oh. Um, thanks," she furrows her brow. "Arthur, it's obvious y'all are comin' here for your car, not to hand-deliver…" she unfolds the sheet of paper inside, "a _blank piece of paper!_"

"Like I said, your bill."

"No."

"No?"

"I am payin' you for your lawyerin'."

"I don't feel right about it."

"Merlin, help," she looks at him.

"Belligerent as an old badger, him," Merlin shrugs.

Gwen narrows her eyes. "I'll just call Leon. _He_ won't feel bad."

Arthur's eyes widen.

"Arthur, I was _expectin'_ to have to pay. Besides, it's your father's business. The company should get paid."

Arthur looks contrite now, but he still doesn't say anything. He knows he's not going to win.

"Look, if it'll make you feel any better, don't take your share of the fee. Give it to the company. Donate it to charity or somethin'."

"Here," Arthur sighs, handing her the _real_ bill.

She opens it. It is still far less than she anticipated. "Thank you. If you wait here, I'll go and get the money."

"You don't have to pay now, Guinevere," Arthur says.

"Arthur, we are leaving in just over a day. When am I gon' get a chance to pay it? Now wait here."

She hurries back into the house. Arthur tries not to be too obvious about watching her walk away in her little light blue Capri pants and white sleeveless shirt.

"You're looking," Merlin mutters, leaning against his car, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm allowed."

"Not in this neighborhood, mate."

"I'm being casual. You just know I'm lookin' because you know me."

"Maybe."

"I'm going to miss you," Merlin says suddenly.

"Don't go gettin' mushy on me now, Merlin," Arthur says. Then, a moment later, "I'll miss you, too. You'll have to come visit."

"In summer. I'm not goin' up there when it's cold."

Arthur laughs and Gwen returns with an envelope. She thrusts it at Arthur, who looks at it but doesn't take it.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Gwen rolls her eyes and hands it to Merlin.

"Thank you," Merlin says. Then he smacks Arthur on the arm with the envelope.

"Go on back to work now, boys, I got things to do," she says.

"I'll call you later," Arthur says quietly.

"'Bye, Gwen," Merlin waves, and both men hop into their cars and drive off.

Gwen walks back to her house and sees Mrs. Barry watching her. _Might as well get it over with._

"Hello, Mrs. Barry," she says, walking over.

"Gwen, what those two white boys doin' callin' on you in the middle of the day?"

"One is my lawyer, and the other works with him at the law office, ma'am," Gwen says.

"Not a lawyer too?"

"No, he's an… assistant there. They were bringin' my bill."

"And pickin' up that fancy car that was settin' there all night," she says, raising a gray eyebrow.

"Um, yeah. Mr. Pendragon paid a visit to my brother last night and they got to drinkin' a few too many beers," Gwen says with a shrug. "I had to drive him home."

"Which one is he, then?"

"The blonde one is Arthur Pendragon, my lawyer." _Stop asking questions._

"Ooo, girl, he's pretty. The other'n ain't bad neither. His ears is kinda big, though."

"His name is Merlin. He's from Ireland."

"Well, they can come 'round here any time they want, just so's I can look at 'em."

Gwen chuckles. "I'll tell them if I ever talk to them again." She feels a bit guilty for lying, but she has to.

Mrs. Barry's brows knit for a moment. "Why ain't you at work?"

"Oh, I'm, um, moving. Saturday."

"You're movin'?"

"Yes, up north. There is an opportunity there for me that I think will make me happy."

"That's good. Gotta be happy. Elyan's gon' have to look after hisself now, I reckon," she chuckles knowingly.

"Yes, he will. He's got a good girl now, though. She'll make sure he keeps his nose clean."

"I'll keep my eye on him, too, you know I will."

_Yes, I do._ "I'd better get back. I'm packin', you know."

"Right. I'll pray for you, Gwen, for your move."

"Thank you, Mrs. Barry," Gwen says. She turns and heads back over to her house, her heart beating furiously. _Nosy, but kind. Hopefully I gave her just enough information._

xXx

"Arthur, I must say this is a nice surprise," Uther says, closing his menu and setting it aside.

"Well, I owed you a rain check for lunch the other day, but we've both been so busy lately I thought I'd make it a dinner."

The waiter arrives with their drinks and takes their meal order.

"Actually, Pop, there's something I gotta talk to you about," Arthur says once the waiter is gone.

"Ah, there it is," Uther declares knowingly, taking a drink.

"You probably can guess," Arthur says, pressing his lips together.

"Probably, but I want to hear it from you."

Arthur takes a deep breath. "Guinevere and I are going to move to Milwaukee so we can be together," he says, all in a rush.

Uther nods slowly, not saying anything.

"I love her. I really do, Pop. And I did tell you that if I loved her I would find a way for us to be together."

"You did," Uther allows, but says nothing more.

"I know there are risks. I know that movin' north won't solve all our problems. But I want to marry her. That's the only thing I want in this world, Pop. To spend the rest of my life with her by my side."

"Do I need to ask The Question?" Uther asks.

"No, she is NOT pregnant," Arthur sighs. "Her brother asked her the same thing," he frowns.

"Her brother? He's all right with this?"

Arthur nods. "Claims he is. Got drunk with him last night, in fact."

"Ah, that would be why you're drinking Coke tonight, then," Uther nods. "But seriously, Arthur, he gave his blessing?"

"Well, _technically_ she doesn't need his blessing, officially. She's the oldest. He has no say in what she does. She merely wants him to accept her choice. I want the same from you."

"Oh, I have no say in what you do?"

"I'm an adult."

"I'm still your father."

"Are you gonna stop me?"

Uther pauses a moment. "Could I, if I would?"

Now Arthur pauses. He swallows and squares his shoulders. "No. I'm sorry if that upsets you. I don't want you to feel like I'm abandoning you, but… my future is with Guinevere. I can't imagine my life without her."

"I see."

Arthur regards his father, the air heavy between them. "Are you upset?"

"Concerned," Uther sighs. "You've known this girl a very short time, Arthur."

"I knew her before she hired me for the trial, Pop."

"Oh?"

"I went to go see Dr. King's speech with Merlin back in August. I met her there. Of course I didn't see her again until she called me to hire me…"

"I always wondered why she called you. How _did_ she…"

"I slipped her my card," Arthur admits, grinning sheepishly.

"Arthur…"

"She was pretty and very nice. Especially considering I had just knocked her on her ass."

"_What?_"

Arthur tells him about how he and Gwen really met, smiling wistfully the whole time. Uther listens and watches the light in his son's eyes, even how he speaks her name with reverence, as if her name was something sweet on her tongue.

"It's still not very long, Arthur."

"I know that. But I also know that she's the one, Pop. If we stay here and stay away from each other, no other woman will do. I'd just be comparin' them to her, and none of them would be as pretty, as smart, as kind, as…"

"All right, all right, I get it," Uther holds his hands up. The food is delivered and their conversation pauses.

"You're completely gone," Uther sighs, cutting into his steak.

"Don't you remember falling in love with Mama?" Arthur asks.

"Of course I do, don't be stupid. That's the only thing that's stopping _me_ from stopping _you._ Which is good, because apparently you're going to do what you want anyway."

"It would be easier if you were okay with it," Arthur says, taking a bite of his own steak.

"For the most part, I am," Uther admits, sighing yet again. "But you do realize you are taking a big risk. Her brother could suffer the consequences for her running off with a white man, you know."

"That's why the only people that know are people that need to know. You, Elyan, Merlin."

"Merlin?"

"Someone has to pack the rest of my things and send them. Besides, he's my best friend, he likes Guinevere, and I trust him completely."

"Pack the rest of your things? When exactly are you leaving?"

"Um, Saturday morning. Very early." Arthur studies his baked potato.

"Arthur…"

"Look, I don't want to wait any longer than I have to," Arthur says, his voice rising slightly now, and a couple heads turn. "Sorry," he mutters. "And Guinevere apparently feels the same way, because she agreed. I was ready to take off like a thief in the night on Tuesday when I asked her. She is the one that made me wait even this long."

"I hate to say this, but you're lucky her father isn't alive," Uther comments.

"If her father was alive, I probably would never have seen her again," Arthur answers.

"Good point. So what are you telling people about your leaving?"

"I haven't told anyone yet. Guinevere told her work that she is leaving for an opportunity up north. Not a total lie," he shrugs. "I'll probably just say that Uncle Gaius has a spot in the Milwaukee office and I was lookin' for a change of scenery."

"So you've spoken to Gaius, then."

"Obviously. Sorry, Pop, I had to clear it with him before I did anything. So he knew before Guinevere even did. The only person that knew before him was Merlin."

"Hmm."

"I've cashed in my trust fund from Mama."

"I assumed you had."

"Goin' to sell the Corvette. We'll be taking Guinevere's car."

"What? You're selling it?" Uther is surprised. Arthur loves that car.

"Can't fit nothin' in it for movin'," Arthur says, frowning. "I can always buy another one," he grins now.

"Not a practical car for Wisconsin, Arthur. It would be no good to you in the winter."

"Oh, right. I didn't think of that. Well, it's just a thing," he shrugs.

Uther angles his head at his son. _Must be the girl's influence._

"Pop, can you do one thing for me, though?"

"What's that?"

"Keep half an eye on Elyan, Guinevere's brother. He's a good man, but he's a little hot-headed. Guinevere kept him in line pretty well, and he's got a good girlfriend now, but… well, it's like you said. I don't want him to have to deal with any fallout if word got out that Guinevere and I eloped off up north."

"I'll try," Uther says.

"Can you do more than try? I promised him that I would keep Guinevere happy. If she finds out something has happened to him down here because she ran off with me…"

"All right, you win. I'll look out for her brother. Merlin can help me with that."

"Thank you," Arthur says.

"Are you going to get married right away?"

"I don't know. Knowing Guinevere, probably not. She's gonna want to wait a bit, I think."

"Do you even have a ring for her yet?"

"Was gonna try and go find one tomorrow."

Uther pauses and takes a long drink, draining his glass, setting it on the table with a thud. "Would you like your mother's?"

xXx

Finally her phone rings, and Gwen snatches it eagerly.

"Hello?" she says, willing her voice to be calm.

"Waiting by the phone?" Arthur's teasing voice comes over the line.

"Hush, you. How was your dinner?"

"You were right, is that what you want to hear?"

"I want to hear you say that you told your father and he gave us his blessin'."

"I thought that's what I just did."

"Arthur, are you drunk again?"

"Lord, no. Sorry, I'm just jittery. It was a stressful night."

"Was he difficult?"

"Not really. He was concerned, mainly. Because there may be consequences for Elyan if people found out you ran off with a white man. And because we haven't known each other very long."

"That's why we're not tellin' people, to try and protect our own. My neighbor did have some questions after y'all left at lunchtime. I told her the same thing I told my principal."

"Good. It's vague, but it ain't exactly a lie."

"I know. It's gettin' easier to say, too. Somehow that worries me."

"He asked, too."

"About me bein'…"

"Yeah. It won't be the last time, I guarantee."

"I know. I guess it's a good thing I'm small and skinny, so people will be able to easily see that I ain't gettin' any bigger."

_That may be a good reason to not rush into getting married right away. It would just further encourage people to assume I'd gotten her pregnant._ "Guinevere, I… I'm sorry. For before. This morning."

"Huh?"

"For bein' such a… coward… about tellin' my Pop."

"You weren't a coward."

"I was. I… I wasn't gonna tell him. I was gonna write a letter and leave it on his desk Friday night."

"But you didn't." _That would have been cowardly._

"Only because you made me realize that I was bein' a coward."

"You're not a coward, Arthur. You're my Superman, remember?"

"I was afraid that Pop was my kryptonite."

"Baby, you're your _own_ kryptonite," she sighs. "If you think like that, anyway."

"You are so smart. Too smart."

"Yeah, and that's _my_ kryptonite. No one likes a colored girl with too much smarts."

"I do. In fact I love one."

"See? There's my Superman. You stood up and did the right thing by tellin' your pa. And now Saturday mornin' we can leave knowin' that both my brother and your father are on our side."

"I asked Pop to keep an eye on Elyan after we leave."

"Thank you. That means… more than I can say."

"Well, it's what you do when you love someone," he says simply.

"Superman again," she says with a small chuckle. "I'm gon' have to remember to ration my compliments."

Arthur laughs now. "Did you find a heavy coat?" he asks, changing the subject.

"No, not a one to be found," she sighs. "I'll just have to get one when we get there. I hope it won't be too cold already."

"Uncle tells me the weather is a bit unpredictable at times. No matter what, it's gonna be colder than you'll want it to be."

"Probably," she sighs. "I don't have much in the way of warm clothes."

"So you'll go shopping," he says lightly. "Plus, I'm sure my cousin Morgana will have things you can borrow, too."

"You didn't mention a cousin," Gwen says.

"Oh, sorry. She's a couple years older than me. Uncle Gaius is quite a bit older than my pop. He and Aunt Alice couldn't have kids, and they adopted Morgana when they were in their 40s."

"Is she nice?"

"Yeah. Well… yeah. She's a lawyer, too. Does divorce law, though, so she gets paid to be a bitch. But to us she's nice. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to take you shopping, too."

"Oh," Gwen says.

"What's wrong, Guinevere?"

"I just hope she'll like me."

"She will. Anyone would have to try very hard not to like you. Besides, you should have heard her squeal when Uncle told her we were comin'. She's very excited."

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I'm excited, too."

"Me, too."

"And a little scared," she admits.

"Me, too."


	15. Chapter 15

Arthur was feeling more like James Bond than Superman at the moment. He'd sold his Corvette to a dealership Friday afternoon and was now in Merlin's car, driving to meet Elyan at Lincoln Elementary at 10 p.m.

They pull into the parking lot just as Elyan drives up in the Impala. He parks beside them and gets out of the car.

"Hey," he nods at Arthur as he climbs out of the passenger side of Merlin's giant Oldsmobile.

"Hey, Elyan, thanks. I'm sure Guinevere really appreciates this," Arthur says.

"Yeah, well, we can't have _her_ comin' out here to meet up with y'all, not at this hour," Elyan says. "Hey, Merlin."

"Hi, Elyan," Merlin waves.

"So you sold that cherry car o' yours, hey?" Elyan asks, actually looking a little sad for Arthur.

"Yeah," Arthur sighs. "No room for anything in there. Not good to use for movin'. Besides, it's not built for drivin' in the snow," he chuckles.

"Prob'ly not," Elyan allows. "Still, it's a shame. But you got money, you can just buy another'n."

"Maybe," Arthur shrugs.

"Well, here's the keys. Don't stay up too late, now, you need to get some sleep. I don't want you fallin' asleep behind the wheel while you're drivin' my big sister up to live with the Yankees," Elyan says, smirking.

"Yes, sir," Arthur salutes him. "I'll make sure she calls you as soon as we get inside my uncle's house."

"You do that."

"You gonna be around tomorrow mornin' when I pick her up?" Arthur asks.

"Prob'ly. She'd kill me if I didn't see her off proper."

Arthur laughs. "Prob'ly," he agrees. "See you later, then. You want a lift back?"

"Nah, it's just a few blocks. I can walk."

"You're sure?" Arthur presses.

"Yeah. Go on, now."

"Elyan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For helpin'. And for understandin'."

"You're welcome. Now that I'm sorta used to the idea, I know that I just want my sister to be happy. And if she's happy with you, then I'd be a…"

"Jive-ass turkey?" Merlin supplies, grinning.

"Yeah. I'd be a jive-ass turkey to get in her way."

"Not that she'd let you anyway," Arthur says, grinning now, too.

Elyan laughs. "See you later, Charlie," he waves and heads towards home on foot.

Merlin looks at Arthur. "Charlie?"

"Don't ask," Arthur sighs.

"You need any help?"

"Wouldn't say no," Arthur says. "Come on, we won't get nothin' done if we stand here talkin' in a parkin' lot all night."

They drive to Arthur's apartment, where Arthur discovers that Merlin has brought some boxes of his own.

"Not even waitin' for the place to get cold, Merlin?" Arthur laughs, reaching into Merlin's trunk for a box.

"Well, it just seemed convenient, since I was comin' over," Merlin shrugs.

"How did your mama take the news?"

"That I was subletting your apartment? She wasn't really surprised. She's not terribly happy, but she understands me wanting me own place." Inside, he sets his box down off to one side, out of the way, so it doesn't accidentally wind up in the Impala's trunk.

"Yes, you're a big boy now, it's time to leave the nest," Arthur says, reaching over and ruffling Merlin's hair.

"Thanks for leaving your furniture, mate. That's a big help."

"Well, it saves me from havin' to move it," Arthur shrugs, shoving a box over to Merlin with his foot.

"Besides, now that you're rich, you can buy all new stuff. Well, you can pay for what Gwen picks out," he chuckles.

xXx

"So who knows?" Merlin asks after the last box has been put in Gwen's car.

"Who knows what?" Arthur asks back.

"Who knows the truth about why you're moving?" Merlin plunks down on the sofa and takes a long drink of water.

"Oh, that. Um… you, obviously. Pop, Elyan… and Leon."

"Leon?" Merlin says, surprised. "How did Leon find out?"

"He guessed," Arthur sighs.

_"So what's this about you heading up to Pendragon north?" Leon asked, strolling into Arthur's office and closing the door behind him._

_ "Well, my uncle is short-handed up in Milwaukee, and Pop has plenty of folks down here, and I got to thinkin' that I might like a change of scenery, so I volunteered to go," Arthur said simply, putting books in a box._

_ "Bullshit," Leon snorted, smirking. "You're going off to elope with Gwen."_

_ Arthur said nothing for a long moment, then slowly and carefully said, "Officially, I am transferring to the Milwaukee office because Gaius is short-handed."_

_ "Understood." Leon nodded and turned towards the door. "Have a safe move, Arthur," he said, pausing. "And take care of her. She's really something."_

_ "Thanks, Leon. I know."_

"Well, he's a smart bloke," Merlin nods. "And clearly he's got a little soft spot for our Gwen, too."

"She's hard not to like, what can I say?" Arthur says, smiling as he thinks of her.

"Arthur?" Merlin asks suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell me mum? I don't like keeping things from her."

Arthur studies his friend's face. "You already told her, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Merlin admits, looking down.

Arthur chuckles. "It's all right. I like your mom. I trust her."

"Oh, good. Because she's over the moon for you and Gwen. Gonna miss you something terrible, she says, but she's happy you found someone that makes you happy." Merlin smiles, then he looks a little uncomfortable.

"She's gonna be on your back now, ain't she?" Arthur grins.

"Already started, mate. 'Well, Merlin, why haven't _you_ found a nice young lass?'" he says, mimicking his mother's voice.

"Well, Vivian needs consoling…" Arthur teases.

"What? Did she make a scene? What did she do?"

_"Mr. Pendragon?" Vivian's voice followed a timid knock at Arthur's door close to the end of the day._

_ "Hello, Vivian," Arthur said, closing up his last box._

_ "You're… you're really leaving?" she asked, stepping inside, her blue eyes wide and glassy._

_ "Yes, moving up north."_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Uncle Gaius needs another lawyer in his office. I want a change of scenery," he shrugged._

_ "Oh… Mr. Pendragon… um, Arthur, I…"_

_ "Vivian," Arthur stopped her, raising his hand. "Don't, please."_

_ "I don't want you to go," she admitted quietly._

_ "Vivian, it wouldn't work, you and me."_

_ "Is it because I work here? I would quit."_

_ "No, that's not why. I'm sorry. I just don't think of you like that."_

_ "I don't understand. I'm pretty, my daddy's rich," she walked closer, "I've got _these,_" she stuck her chest forward slightly._

_ "Vivian," he stepped back then, "those are all… good qualities… I guess. But… you're just not my type, sorry. And I'm movin' to Milwaukee tomorrow."_

_ "But I'm everyone's type…" she muttered, incredulous._

_ "Vivian," Arthur said, stepping over to her and placing his hands on her shoulders, "stop trying to be a_ type. _Start trying to be yourself. There's a man out there for you. It's just not me."_

_ Vivian looked down at her feet, nodding. "I'll miss you."_

_ Arthur gave her a quick hug then. "You're a nice girl, Vivian. Let people see that."_

"So you're leavin' and she tried to make a play for you the night before? Wow, she isn't very smart," Merlin shakes his head.

"It's kind of sad, really," Arthur says. "She doesn't know who she is."

"Too much time under Daddy's thumb," Merlin says, putting his glass in the sink. "Maybe I'll start bein' nicer to her."

"Heh," Arthur chuckles once. "You know who'd be good for Vivian?"

"Me?" Merlin says, sitting up straight and puffing his chest out a bit.

"Percy Andersen."

"What? She'd never…"

"Exactly why she should."

"Hmm."

"Merlin, are you thinkin' o' playin' matchmaker?"

Merlin shrugs.

"Gonna start calling you… 'Merlinda,'" Arthur teases.

"Well, just remember _you_ were the one that came up with the idea… Arthurina."

Arthur just rolls his eyes. He looks at his watch. "Shit, it's late. You stayin' here or goin' home?"

"Stayin' here," Merlin says, stretching out on the couch. "If you think I'm not seeing you two off tomorrow morning, you're as stupid as you are ugly—hey!" he shouts when a pillow hits his head.

"Go to sleep," Arthur says. "And thanks."

xXx

4:30 comes very early indeed when you haven't really slept at all. Gwen tossed and turned, her mind too full, her heart beating too fast.

She finally gets up at 3:00 and takes a long shower, hoping that the hot water will settle her nerves.

_I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't do this. I can do this. Am I insane? No, I'm in love, which is apparently close enough._

_ What if he doesn't show up? What if he just stole my car?_

_ Don't be stupid, that's a pretty elaborate plan to execute just to steal a lousy old '58 Impala. Especially because the man was drivin' a brand new Stingray._

_ I can't do this._

Gwen's brain is a constant flurry of random thoughts as she dresses and fixes her hair and generally fusses, all while watching the clock.

_Maybe I can sleep in the car. Would he mind? It wouldn't be very polite, sleepin' while he has to stay awake and drive._

_ Wonder if he slept last night?_

Gwen checks her large gray suitcase one last time, making sure her essentials are there. She has a few boxes as well, but the suitcase is the important thing. All of her personals are in there, and she frets over it like a mother hen with her brood.

_I hope he left me enough room in the car. He has more things than me, but he promised he'd leave room._

4:24 a.m. rolls around and she sees the reflection of headlights trace her ceiling.

_He's here._

She runs down the stairs and out the door to greet him, but Elyan has already let him in.

"Ready?" he asks, grinning at her.

"Yes. No. Yes," she answers, wringing her hands.

Arthur glances at Elyan and crosses over to her, wrapping his arms around her. "I know," he whispers. "I'm nervous, too. But that could be from the entire pot of coffee I drank this morning."

She giggles into his shoulder, and he continues. "By the way, where's your bathroom?"

Gwen starts laughing now, slapping his shoulder lightly as she pulls out of his arms. "First on the left," she says.

"Merlin ain't here?" Arthur asks. "He left fifteen minutes before me…" he mutters, walking to the bathroom.

"Was he supposed to be here?" Gwen asks. Another set of headlights answers her question and Elyan goes out to greet him.

"Merlin, I'm glad you came," Gwen says when he comes in.

"Wouldn't miss it," Merlin says. He has a bag in his hand.

Arthur reappears then, and looks at him. "What happened to you?"

"Had to stop home for a minute. Mum made you some scones for the trip." He holds out the bag.

"Holy…" Arthur opens the bag. "How many scones did she make?"

"Um, three batches, I think. She doesn't think you'll have anything decent to eat up there," Merlin chuckles.

"'Course he will," Gwen says. "I'm goin' with him."

Merlin laughs.

"But tell her thank you very much, Merlin. It was very sweet of her," she adds.

"Come on, let's get Guinevere's things," Arthur says. He hands the bag of scones to her. "You can carry that."

Gwen rolls her eyes. "Come on," she leads them upstairs.

Arthur looks around once they are upstairs, peeking into rooms and opening closet doors.

"Arthur!" Gwen laughs at him.

"I've never been up here," he defends himself. "I'm just familiarizing myself with your former surroundings."

"Why?" she asks.

"Because he's a nosy git," Merlin answers. "Do you lot want to hit the road or not?"

"Yes," Arthur says.

"What are we taking?" Elyan asks. Gwen points to the gray suitcase and three boxes.

"That's it?" Arthur asks.

"We'll see if there's room after these," Gwen says, picking up the suitcase.

"I'll get that," Arthur says.

"There's one box for each of you," Gwen instructs, stubbornly lifting the suitcase and heading down.

They find they have room for one more box, and Arthur runs up to get it.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Elyan asks softly, glancing at Merlin, who tactfully pretends not to hear.

"Yes," Gwen says. She puts her hand on his cheek. "Elyan, he makes me happy. Yes, I'm scared; yes, it's not going to be easy. But that's what makes it worthwhile. I ain't never done nothin' scary or risky in my life. It's time I take a chance on somethin'."

"I know." He glances to the side, to see Arthur returning. "If he don't treat you like a queen, you just call me and I'll come a-runnin', okay?"

"Deal," she says, hugging her brother tightly. "Love you, Elyan."

"Love you, too, Gwennie."

He releases her and she looks up at him, smirking as she wipes a tear from his eye. "Shh," he says.

"Ready whenever you are," Arthur says quietly, not wanting to interrupt the siblings' farewell.

"Merlin," Gwen goes over and hugs the Irishman, who even leans down and kisses her cheek, blushing.

"Keep him in line," he grins at her, and she makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"Arthur," Elyan says, holding his hand out. "Be good to my sister or I _will_ kill you. Just layin' it out there."

"Understood," Arthur says, nodding seriously as he shakes Elyan's hand. "I made a promise, remember?"

"I do," Elyan says. "Just mind that _you_ remember it."

"Merlin," Arthur says, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"Oh, you're gettin' hugged, mate, there's no way around it," Merlin says, pulling Arthur by his shoulder.

Merlin releases him and Arthur ducks his head, surreptitiously wiping his eyes. He waits while Gwen gives Elyan one last hug, telling him to be good. Then he takes her hand and leads her to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for her.

She waves at Elyan and Merlin and climbs into the car. Arthur closes the door gently after her and walks around to the driver's side.

"Drive safe," Merlin calls.

Arthur just nods and gets in the car. Merlin and Elyan watch as he pulls the car out of the drive and heads down the street.

xXx

"Are you all right, Guinevere?" Arthur asks as they leave town. She hasn't said anything since they left, and he knows she's been weeping softly as she looks out the window.

The sky is just barely starting to show signs of morning as Arthur stops the car, sighing. "Guinevere, if you want to change your mind…" he ventures quietly. He has to give her one last chance, even if her answer kills him inside.

Gwen sniffles. "No," she says, finally turning to look at him. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I don't mean to look like I'm mopin' or havin' second thoughts or that I don't want to go with you. I do. More than anything."

Arthur holds his arm out and she slides across the bench seat, scooting close next to him.

"I've never been anywhere," she says. "This is the only place I know."

"I know, darlin'," he says, kissing the top of her head. "But we'll make a new home in Milwaukee. Together."

Gwen looks up at him, her brown eyes big and watery. He wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumb and then holds her chin gently with his thumb and forefinger as he leans down to softly kiss her lips once. Then again, a little longer.

"I can turn back," he mutters against her lips.

"Shut up," she starts giggling now. "Drive this car, Superman."

Arthur puts the car in gear. "If I were Superman we'd be there by now," he says. Gwen starts to slide away, but he holds her to his side, wanting her close. "Pass me one o' them scones," he says.

"How're you gon' drive and eat a scone when you have one arm around me?" she asks, handing him one of the three-dozen chocolate chip scones from the bag.

"Like this," he says, guiding the car for a moment with his knee as he shoves half of the pastry into his mouth, setting the other half on the dash while he chews.

"Pig," she says, but she's laughing, nibbling her own scone now.

"What?" he asks, his mouth full. She sighs and reaches up to brush a crumb from the corner of his mouth.

"Merlin's mama can cook," she says. "I'll have to have him send me the recipe."

xXx

The sun is up as they drive through the northeast corner of Arkansas, heading for the southeast corner of Missouri. Gwen is yawning, her head dropping onto Arthur's shoulder.

"Sorry," she mumbles, apologizing.

"Guinevere, if you want to sleep, that's fine," he says.

"I don't want to be rude," she says.

"Darlin', you're fallin' asleep anyway, just give in. I'm fine. Whole pot o' coffee, remember? I'm all caffeined up."

She settles her head back on his shoulder. "As long as you don't mind," she says.

"Not at all," he says, giving her a small squeeze.

Gwen shifts and squirms, trying to get comfortable. She toes her shoes off and brings her feet up, curling her legs beside her.

"Just lie down, Guinevere," Arthur says, raising his arm so she can slide down.

She curls up on her side, resting her head on his thigh. "Is this all right?" she asks.

"It's fine," Arthur answers. _A little bit distracting, but fine._ He reaches down and tucks a curl that has escaped from her braid behind her ear and watches as she smiles a little as she drifts off to sleep.

_We actually did it. Honestly, I'm a little surprised that she did it. What was it that Duncan said? "__Never steppin' a toe out o' line." Well, this isn't really steppin' a toe out o' line. We ain't doin' anything illegal. Nothing wrong with ridin' in a car. Through several states. To go somewhere where we can continue to not do anything illegal._

He glances down at her, smiling at how her lips pout, how her little hands are tucked up under her chin. _She looks so sweet. Innocent._

_ Well, she is innocent, stupid._

Then she squirms slightly, her hand coming up to rest on his thigh beside her head. She sighs and makes a noise, a small whimpering noise that sounds vaguely sensual.

_Maybe not so innocent,_ Arthur thinks, blinking in slight surprise. _Wonder what she's dreaming about? And I hope her hand doesn't go travelin' too far._

_ Well, I kind of hope it does._


	16. Chapter 16

"Where are we?" Gwen sits up, rubbing her eyes. She looks out the window and sees… nothing noteworthy. The land is brown and flat. Flatter than any land she's ever seen before. All around are farm fields, recently harvested.

"Illinois," Arthur says. "Did you sleep well?" he turns and smiles fondly at her, all rumpled and sleepy.

"Well enough," she says, stretching.

"Do you need a break? Rest room? Stretch your legs?"

"That would be nice," she says.

"I saw a sign advertisin' a rest stop in a few miles."

"Oh, good. I wasn't in your way, was I?" she asks, putting her shoes back on now.

"No. A little… distracting, what with your head – and your hand – on my thigh, but… I liked it." He keeps his eyes on the road. When he peeks at her, she's blushing.

"I didn't… say anything, did I? Elyan claims I talk in my sleep."

"You made some very cute little sounds from time to time, but no talkin'," he answers, smiling. "Hmm. I feel cheated now."

Gwen swats his arm lightly, laughing.

"Maybe next time," he shrugs.

_Next time. Of course there's going to be a next time,_ Gwen thinks, the reality of it exciting and scary at once, and her mind drifts back to her gray suitcase in the back seat of the car, to the treasured dress packed carefully inside.

"It's really… flat here," she says.

"Yeah. Once we get near Chicago it'll get more interesting," he says.

"Is Wisconsin this flat? I mean, I'm assuming you've been there before…"

"Yes, we've been up to visit a few times. It's not _this_ flat, but it's not hilly like home, either. But it's right on Lake Michigan, which is nice."

"Oh. We'll be able to go swimmin' in the summer, then," she smiles. "Does it get warm enough in the summer there to swim?"

"Yes, it actually gets quite hot in the summers there. Last time Pop and I were there it was July and it was just as hot as one of our summers in Memphis," he says, steering the car towards the rest stop.

"Well, it's good to know that it won't be cold _all_ the time," she says, smiling.

"Just most of the time," he mutters.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says, parking the car. He turns and kisses her softly, lingering over her lips a few moments.

"What was that for?" she asks, blushing again.

"Because I can," he grins, then gets out of the car. He scurries around and has her door open before she's slid over to the door.

"Thank you, kind sir," she says, climbing out. "Oh! It's cold!" she exclaims, not used to the crisp fall air yet.

"Where is your coat?" he asks.

"Somewhere…" she says, wrapping her arms around herself. "Like I said, I still need to buy a heavy one. I did have one, but I had to throw it at the end of last winter because it was just too far gone," she sighs. "I couldn't repair it no more."

"Here," Arthur opens the trunk and pulls open a box, producing a navy blue parka with fur around the hood. "I used to wear this in the winters when I was in college," he tells her, holding it out for her to slide her arms in. The sleeves hang off her hands and the coat reaches nearly to her knees.

"It looks like it's eating you," Arthur chuckles. "But you're very cute. Come on," he boldly takes her hand and walks with her to the building.

"Arthur?" she asks quietly.

"Illinois don't have a law against mixed race relationships, darlin'," he says, squeezing her hand. "I checked yesterday, just to be sure."

"Okay," she says, relaxing.

Inside, they separate and go attend to business. Arthur is, of course, waiting for her when she comes out.

"You're right, I look ridiculous in this coat," she says.

"I never said ridiculous. I said you were cute."

"You _said_ it looked like I was bein' eaten."

"Yes, and _then_ I said you were very cute. Come on, let's walk a little," he holds his hand out and she takes it again.

They head back outside and make a circuit of the building. The sun is out, but it's not doing much to warm the air.

"Ain't you cold?" Gwen asks.

"I'm fine," Arthur says. He's got on a light sweater and jeans. Here and there other people drift in and out of the stop. Gwen smiles at a man walking his dog along the edge of the treeline. It's a little fluffy black dog with a stout body and short legs.

"Cute," she says, nodding at the animal as it bounds happily, sniffing here, lifting his leg there.

"We could get a dog, if you'd like," he says.

"Maybe. We'd have to get a house."

"Of course we'll get a house," he says. They stop near a picnic table. Arthur pulls her over, and they both sit on the top of the table, their feet on the bench seat.

"We will?"

"Well, yes. Guinevere, we're fabulously wealthy, remember? We can certainly buy a house. Any kind you want. Hell, we could even have one built if you don't find one you like," he says, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb as he holds it in his lap.

"I keep forgettin'. I don't know if I'll ever get used to that."

"I don't think you will, and that's one of the reasons I love you," Arthur says, gazing down into her soft brown eyes.

She ducks her head and blushes again. "That's another thing I don't think I'll get used to."

"What, me complimentin' you or me tellin' you that I love you?" he grins at her again.

"Both," she giggles, leaning to the side and bumping him with her shoulder.

Arthur is quiet for a long moment, playing with her fingers. "I have something for you," he says suddenly.

"You do?"

He nods, and hops down from the tabletop. "Close your eyes," he says, touching the end of her nose.

She does, but they fly open again when she feels him on the seat of the picnic table, easing himself in between her knees.

"Arthur!" she exclaims.

"Closed!" he replies, just as urgently, then immediately apologizes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. I'm not doin' anything indecent, I promise. Good thing you're wearin' pants, though."

"Ramblin'," she teases, but she separates her feet to allow him between them. "What on earth are you doin'?" she asks. _He's takin' his time, whatever it is._

She feels his kiss on her lips now. "Open your eyes," he whispers.

Gwen opens her eyes and immediately gasps.

"Guinevere Thompson, would you make me the happiest man in the free world and do me the honor of being my wife?" he asks, a small black box in his hand, opened to reveal a beautiful diamond ring inside.

She throws her arms around his neck and whispers, "Yes. Yes, Arthur, I will be your wife."

"Oh, good," he says, trying to sound flippant to hide his own tears of joy. "I'd hate to think we'd come all this way for nothing."

Gwen's breathing hitches as she laughs through her tears, and she releases the death grip she has on his neck.

Her heart melts when she sees his wet eyes, and she gently wipes them with her thumbs. He does the same for her, then he leans forward and kisses her, properly.

Gwen melts into his embrace, allowing his tongue to sweep through her mouth with no hesitation, her fingers gripping his sweater.

_I hope no one's looking,_ she thinks, reason creeping in. "Arthur," she says against his lips.

"Hmm."

She pulls gently away. "We're in public, Baby. People might be lookin'."

"Let 'em look," he shrugs.

"I am not on display," she huffs, but she is trying not to smile, too ridiculously happy to be mad.

"'Course you're not," he smiles. "Now, do you want this or not?" he asks, holding up the ring.

"Gimme that," she says, holding her left hand out to him. It is trembling slightly.

"I hope it fits," he says, sliding it over her finger.

"It's a little big, but that's okay," she says, looking at it on her hand, watching how the diamonds glint in the sunlight.

"We can get it sized," he says. "It was my mother's."

"Arthur…" she gasps, her eyes wide. "Oh, my…" She doesn't care that he didn't buy her a ring. Sentimental value far outweighs monetary value, in her mind.

"You like it?"

"I love it, thank you," she says, kissing him again. Briefly. "We should get goin'."

"Yeah, prob'ly. This bench is hurtin' my knees anyway."

"You could have had me move down to the seat, Arthur," she says, watching him rub the feeling back into his knees.

"The grass was cold and damp," he says. "Come on, darlin'." He wraps his arm around her and they walk back to the car. Gwen keeps glancing at her ring. Arthur smiles, proud of himself.

As they walk to the car, an elderly white couple frowns disapprovingly at them. Arthur stares boldly back at them, almost as if he is daring them to make a comment. They say nothing and disappear into the building.

Twenty feet later, a young white couple passes them and they smile fondly at Arthur and Gwen.

"Makin' my head spin," Gwen comments. Then an older colored man, probably in his 40s, passes them.

"Miss," he nods at Gwen, glancing briefly at Arthur, and the briefest look of concern crosses his face.

"Like you said, Guinevere, not illegal, but some people might not like it."

"I think that colored man was worried about me," she says.

"I think that old couple was worried about _me,_" Arthur says, attempting to lighten the suddenly-darker mood.

"I can be strong because I have you," Gwen says decisively, choosing not to let the disapproving looks from a couple of old people trouble her.

He smiles at her, leaning back against the car, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her back. "And I'm only Superman because I have you. You're my Lois Lane," he says, rather pleased with himself.

Gwen giggles and the old couple emerges from the building, still frowning.

"They probably don't ever smile," Arthur whispers. The old couple walks right past them on their way to the car, staring again. Gwen lifts her left hand and pointedly smoothes her hair, brandishing her engagement ring in their faces, blatant yet somehow casual.

"Smooth," Arthur declares. Then he yawns. Loudly.

"Baby, you're tired, why don't you let me drive a spell? I just had a nap, you know," Gwen says, stroking his cheek.

"You sure?" Arthur asks.

"Yes, I'm sure. Just tell me where to go and I'll be fine," she says. Arthur opens the driver's side door for her and she climbs in, adjusting the seat forward while he goes around to the other side.

"Okay, just stay on 57 heading north. When you start seeing signs tellin' you that we're close to Chicago, wake me up and we'll switch," he says, taking his shoes off now and getting comfortable.

"Why?"

"You don't want to be drivin' through Chicago, darlin'. It's a mess, and people don't drive nice." He leans down and puts his head on her lap now.

"Worked better for me; I'm smaller," Gwen says, reaching down to touch his hair, brushing it from his forehead. She pulls out of the parking spot and heads out, back to the freeway.

"Mmm." Arthur settles in, as comfortable as he's going to get. "I think Kankakee might be a good place to stop and switch, if I 'member right," he mumbles sleepily.

_What a strange name for a city,_ Gwen thinks. "Okay."

As she drives, she tries to not let herself get distracted by the glittering diamond ring on her left hand.

xXx

An hour and a half later, Gwen is still driving with Arthur slumbering quietly, drooling on her pant leg.

Then a police car pulls out, and Gwen automatically checks her speed. She's going two miles over, nothing to be concerned about, but she slows so that she is going exactly the speed limit.

_He's probably just headin' back to the station or somethin'. Maybe his shift is done._

The officer follows her for a couple more miles before he decides to flip on his lights. The siren flares once, just a couple blips.

Hoping that he just needs to pass her and get to a call, she pulls to the side. The policeman pulls off as well, behind her in the shoulder. She sighs and turns the car off.

_Do I have a taillight out? I don't even have my lights on. A brake light? I know my plate isn't expired. I was drivin' perfect. Should I wake Arthur?_ She looks down at him.

The officer saunters up to the car. She rolls the window down and looks up at him. He looks so peaceful that she decides to leave him be.

"Well, missy, what do we have here?" he asks. "Whoa, you got a white boy in your lap!" he exclaims, seeing Arthur. "He dead?"

"He's asleep, sir. I'm sorry, is there a problem?"

"Just wondering what a little colored girl is doing driving through my state with a white boy asleep in her lap," he says, looking down his nose at her. "Of course, when I pulled you over, I was wondering what a little colored girl is doing driving through my state all alone…"

"We're movin' sir," she explains.

She sees him look at her left hand, at the ring there. "He get you knocked up or something?"

"No, sir," she says, struggling a little to remain polite. _Arthur, wake up!_

Then the officer reaches in the window and tips her face up, his fingers under her chin. "Well, you certainly are a pretty little thing. For a colored girl."

Gwen says nothing at this.

"Step out of the car, please, miss."

"Beg pardon?" she asks.

"Don't do it, Guinevere," Arthur says, finally lifting his head.

She looks down at him. "What?" she asks.

"Do not get out of this car," he repeats, then he leans across her. "Is there a problem officer, or are you just harassing my fiancée?"

"Well—"

"Officer, do you have a legitimate reason for pulling us over? Broken taillight? Brake light out? Expired plates? Driving too fast? Too slow? Driving erratically? Was she parked in front of a hydrant?"

"What are you, some kind of lawyer?" the police officer snaps.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Arthur says. "And if you have no reason other than curiosity for pulling us over and disrupting my nap, we'll just be on our way."

"Um, yes, sir. Drive safely, miss," the officer stammers, walking away.

"How long were you awake?" Gwen asks.

"Long enough. I was playin' possum because I wanted to see what he was up to, and I know he wouldn't try anything if I was awake. Sorry."

Gwen looks down at her leg. "You drooled on my pants."

"Sorry," he repeats. "Are you all right, Guinevere?" he asks, cupping her cheek with his hand.

"I'm fine. A little shook up, but fine."

"Do you want me to drive?"

"Don't you want to go back to sleep?"

"Nah, I'm too pissed off now. I can drive if you're shook up."

"If you insist," she says, reaching for the door handle.

"No need to get out," Arthur says, pulling her sideways into his lap.

"Oh!" she exclaims, giggling now.

"Mmm, you'll have to pay the toll before I can let you pass," he says, rubbing his nose against hers.

"Arthur! That nasty policeman is still watchin' us!" she exclaims, looking past him out the back window.

"What, is goin' to arrest me for kissin' you?" he asks, and then he kisses her, not very long, but long enough.

"Arthur!" she gasps when he releases her. "We are sittin' on the side of the road!"

"Sorry," Arthur says, but he can't stop the grin spreading across his face. He moves her to his right and slides left, grunting as his knees hit the dashboard. He reaches down and pulls the lever to move the seat back. "Better."

He checks the road and then pulls out again. "Are you mad?" he asks after a bit.

"Why would I be mad?"

"You were yellin' at me. And you're way over there."

"That wasn't yellin'," she says, chuckling. She slides back over next to him so he can wrap his arm around her again.

"It wasn't?" he asks, his eyes widening.

"If Elyan were here, he'd tell you," she says, settling against his shoulder. Her fingers twitch briefly, then she hesitantly rests her hand on his thigh. His muscles jump under her hand, but he is smiling.

"That ring looks just right on your hand, Guinevere," he says, squeezing her.

"It does, doesn't it?" she asks, lifting her hand a moment to admire it again.

"Are you gettin' hungry?"

"Little bit. Are we goin' to be able to find a place where we can eat together?"

"We can try. If not, we'll get it to go and have a picnic," he shrugs, refusing to let anything sully his mood.

He pulls of at the next town they reach, looking for a diner or even a McDonald's. Someplace where they can get some lunch. They find a small downtown area and drive slowly through, Arthur peering at the buildings, looking for signs that say "whites only" or "no coloreds;" looking for a place to eat that _doesn't_ bear one of those placards.

"Hmm," he mutters, frowning.

"Go that way," Gwen points.

"Why that way?"

"Just turn," she says.

"Okay," he says, turning down the designated street.

"Just a feeling," she explains. "Ah." She points at a storefront with the sign _Althea's Soul Food Kitchen_ above.

Arthur stops the car.

"Is this okay?" Gwen asks.

"We'll try. They may not let _me_ in," he says, half-smiling. He gets out of the car and goes around to open her door. She takes his hand and leads him to the restaurant, and he opens that door for her as well.

"Hello, baby," a large woman behind a counter greets Gwen warmly. "Oh," she blinks her surprise at seeing Arthur appear beside Gwen, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back.

Gwen leads Arthur to a table and the woman comes over with plastic laminated menus. "Somethin' to drink, Sugar?" she asks Gwen.

"I suppose we're too far north for you to have sweet tea?" she asks.

"I'll see what I can do," the woman smiles. "Somethin' for you, sir?"

"Dr. Pepper?" he asks hopefully.

"All right, honey, I'll be right back."

"I think the poor woman is beside herself," Gwen whispers to Arthur. He reaches across to hold her hands.

"Can you blame her?"

"Not really. She probably doesn't get too many handsome white boys in here."

"Oh, so I'm handsome?"

"You fishin' for compliments?"

"Well…" he starts, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles, "I don't think you've ever said."

"I haven't?"

He shakes his head no.

"O' course I have…" she disagrees, her brow furrowing. "Or maybe I was just always thinkin' it so much I just figured I'd said it."

"I'd remember if you had," he grins at her.

"Arthur, the day I met you – when you knocked me on my backside – I thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on," she says.

"Really?" he asks, leaning forward. "You're too far away. I can't kiss you."

"You are not kissin' me in this restaurant," she says. "We—"

The woman arrives with their drinks now, and they quickly lean back. "You just let me know if it's sweet enough for you," she says, setting the tea in front of Gwen.

Gwen drinks while the woman gives Arthur his Dr. Pepper. "It's perfect, thank you. Are you Althea?"

"Yes, I am, and this is my place," she nods proudly. "What can I get for the two of you?"

"What do you recommend?" Arthur asks, setting the menu down.

"Oh, now, everything's good, o' course," she says proudly. "You like fried chicken, honey?"

"I love fried chicken," Arthur says. "It's probably my favorite food."

"Well, then, Miss Thea's gon' set you right up," she nods. "Sugar?" she asks Gwen.

"I'll have the same," she smiles.

Althea takes the menus and is about to leave, but then she pauses and turns back. "I'm sorry, I gotta ask…"

"We're passing through, moving north so that we can get married," Arthur says, reaching for Gwen's hand again.

"Hmm," Althea cocks her head at them. "Where you comin' from?"

"Memphis," Gwen answers.

"Y'all love each other?"

_That's a pretty forward question,_ Arthur thinks, but he answers anyway. "Very much, yes." Gwen nods her agreement.

Althea sees him gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, sees the light in their eyes as they look at each other.

"Good enough for Miss Thea," she nods, heading back to the kitchen.

"I wonder how her chicken will measure up against Gwaine's?" Arthur asks. "Or yours?"

"Well, I reckon it'll be better than Gwaine's," Gwen says, smirking. "And I'd also reckon that she'd give me a run for my money."

"Will you make your chicken for me once we're settled? My aunt is a good cook, but I'm sure she'd let you cook a meal or two. If you want, that is."

"I love cookin', Arthur. I only complained about Elyan wantin' me to cook for him all the time because he never really _asked,_" she says. "I'm gonna use the restroom. You okay out here by yourself?" she asks, smirking at him.

"I'll be fine and I'll behave," Arthur says. Gwen laughs and leaves the table.

While she's gone, a few more people come into the restaurant, all black. They do a very poor job of hiding their surprise at seeing blonde, blue-eyed Arthur sitting at a table. Arthur just smiles and nods at them. He hears Althea chuckling as she comes out from behind the counter to greet the new diners.

When she passes him after taking their drink orders, she pauses and rests her hand on Arthur's shoulder. "What's your name, honey?"

"Arthur," he says.

"You take good care o' that girl, Arthur. Y'all ain't gon' have an easy road, and it's gon' be harder on her."  
"I know that, ma'am, thank you. And we know it's not going to be easy. But we'll be together, and that's the important thing."

"You got it bad, ain't you, honey?" Althea smiles knowingly at him.

"I do," Arthur admits, grinning.

"Her parents okay with what y'all are doin'?"

"Um, her parents are gone, ma'am."

"Well, this would've kilt 'em if they weren't," she chuckles.

"I did get her brother's blessin'. Had to promise him I'd keep her happy."

Gwen emerges from the restroom and Arthur visibly brightens.

Althea chuckles at him again. "She's a pretty thing. 'Course, so're you." She pats his shoulder and hurries away.

"What was that about?" Gwen asks, sitting.

"Same old," he shrugs. "Y'all ain't gonna have an easy road, take good care o' her, you know."

"She didn't ask if I was pregnant, did she?"

"No. Actually, she didn't," Arthur realizes. "That's refreshing."

Gwen giggles a little. "You're gettin' looks," she says, pointing her eyes at the three people who came in while she was in the bathroom.

"I smiled at them when they came in," Arthur defends himself. "I'm not worryin' about it."

Althea bustles through again with drinks for the other table, and Arthur and Gwen sit quietly for a few moments.

"It's not awkward," she says after a couple minutes.

"What isn't?"

"Not talking. We can sit quietly and it don't feel strange."

"No, it doesn't." Arthur smiles.

"How far have we gone?"

"We're just past halfway, I think," Arthur says. "Getting tired of bein' in a car?"

"Li'l bit. Like the company, though."

"That's the best part. Being alone with you for so long."

Their food arrives. Fried chicken, greens, and cornbread. Standard fare, same as what they'd get at Gwaine's.

Arthur takes one bite of the chicken and is immediately looking for Althea, waving her over.

"Yes, what is it, Baby?" she asks.

"If I wasn't already marryin' Guinevere, I'd marry you, Miss Thea," Arthur says. "This is the best fried chicken I have ever had."

Althea laughs, loud and hearty. "Baby, if I wasn't already married, I might take you up on that offer." She stops laughing and looks at Gwen. "He didn't just insult your cookin', now, did he?"

"No, ma'am. I ain't cooked for him yet. Little difficult to do that down in Memphis, you know."

"O' course, Sugar. Now, Arthur, don't you go sayin' that mine is still the best after you try hers."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Miss Thea," Arthur says.

"Try the cornbread," Althea says before leaving them again, muttering, "Guinevere… that's a pretty name."

"So how does this measure up to yours?" Arthur asks, taking a bite of the cornbread. "Damn…" He stares at it as if it must have dropped from the heavens.

"I'm not goin' to say," Gwen answers. "It might color your opinion."

"Aw, come on…"

"No. If I say it's better, you'll still say mine is better when you try it 'cause you feel bad. If I say it's not as good, you'll be expectin' mine to be better, and if you find it isn't, you'll be disappointed."

"You're very competitive about your fried chicken."

"Yes, I am. It's my granny's recipe, on my mama's side. It's important. And you're right, this cornbread is sinful."

"Oh, so _that_ you have an opinion on," he chuckles.

"Still workin' out my cornbread. I've got the recipe, but it just don't turn out like Mama's." She shakes her head sadly.

They finish their meal, and as Arthur pays, tipping Althea generously but not otentatiously, the large woman smiles sadly at them. She comes out from behind the register and hugs them both in turn, enfolding them each into her soft body.

"I'll be prayin' for you two," she says.

"Thank you, Miss Thea. If we ever pass through here again, we'll make sure to stop," Gwen says.

"You do that, Sugar."

xXx

"I don't know that much about you," Arthur says suddenly. They'd been somewhat quiet since lunch, Gwen still cuddled to Arthur's side in the car.

"You got all those reports and documents on me for the trial," Gwen says. "And you know about my awful middle name."

"Well, those are just… _facts,_" he says, waving his one hand dismissively. "I'm talkin' about things that wouldn't be on those sheets."

"Like?"

"What's your favorite color?" he asks.

"Purple. You?"

"Red."

"Not surprisin'," she chuckles.

"Um, movie?"

"_West Side Story,_" Gwen says.

"Really?"

"Mm-hm," she nods. "It's a modern retelling of Ro—"

"Romeo and Juliet, I know," Arthur says. "Interesting parallels, there, too…" he mutters.

"Well, let's just hope no one ends up dead," Gwen says. "What's yours?"

"_Rebel Without a Cause._"

"Really? Not _Twelve Angry Men_ or, oh, _To Kill a Mockingbird?_"

"Just because I'm a lawyer don't mean I want to watch movies about lawyerin'," he says.

"Fair enough. Hmm. Both Natalie Wood movies," Gwen comments. "That's actually my one complaint with _West Side Story_, though."

"What's that?"  
"They couldn't find a Puerto Rican girl to _play_ a Puerto Rican girl? They just slapped some dark makeup on a white girl and taught her an accent."

"At least half the Puerto Ricans in that movie were white people, Guinevere," Arthur says. "Hollywood don't care. They liked her actin' and her singin'."

"That wasn't her singin'."

"What?"

"You see _The King and I_?"

"Yeah."

"Same singin' voice as Mrs. Anna. They got some other lady to sing and the actresses just pretend."

"How do you know that?"

"You just gotta listen, Arthur."

"Heh. _The King and I_ is another one with a bunch o' white people pretendin'. But I ain't sure exactly where Yul Brynner is from."

"It ain't Siam, that's for sure."

"Who is your favorite singer?" Arthur asks, moving on.

Gwen bites her lower lip and grins, looking to the side. "Little Richard," she says.

"Interesting. Why?"

"He's a showman. And he can really play that piano. I like some o' those Motown girl groups, too. You know, like the Supremes? The Ronettes… what's another?"  
"Marvelettes," Arthur supplies.

"Yes, them, too," Gwen says, beaming at him. "I like Ray Charles, too."

"You like piano players. I guess I'm lucky Merlin didn't steal you away from me."

"Merlin's charmin', but he ain't my type. He's more brotherly."

"Am I your type?"

"I guess. I didn't know I had a type before. Woulda been shocked to find out that my type was blonde white boys."

"Blonde white _boy,_" Arthur corrects. "Singular."

Gwen laughs. "Of course. How 'bout you? What would you turn the dial to if we flipped on that radio?"

"Beatles. Beach Boys. Four Seasons, kind of. All that high singin' gets to a man after a while."

Gwen giggles.

"I like Frank Sinatra, too," he admits.

"Really?"

"He was my mama's favorite, so…"

"My daddy liked Patsy Cline," Gwen smiles. "Shame about her dyin'. She could sing."

"Dean Martin, too." Arthur adds.

"Johnny Cash. He can't sing, though," she laughs.

"You know my favorite food is fried chicken now," Arthur says, leaning down briefly to kiss her forehead. "What's yours?"

"I should says somethin' healthy like apples or somethin' hearty like… oh, cornbread. But really it's chocolate."

Arthur laughs at this. "Um, book?"

"Oh, now, I can't answer that one. Too many choices and it changes with my mood. What's yours?"

"_Catcher in the Rye._"

She looks at him. "You are a strange man, Arthur Pendragon."

"Yes, and you're stuck with me. What's your favorite book today?"

"_The Stranger._"

"Okay… kind of dark, but oddly appropriate. You're not planning on shooting anyone, are you?"

Gwen laughs, but she is impressed by his knowledge of literature. "Not at the moment."

"TV show?" Arthur asks.

"You don't want to know," Gwen says, blushing.

"Oh, now I want to know even more," Arthur prods.

"I like game shows. You know, _To Tell the Truth, Password, The Price is Right._ Oh, and I like _The Twilight Zone._"

"And you call me strange?" Arthur asks. "That's a very odd combination. Game shows and creepy horror."

"Well, what do you watch?"

"Normal things. _Rawhide. Bonanza. The… Beverly Hillbillies…_"

"Westerns. And _The Beverly Hillbillies,_" she repeats.

"Oh, and I like _The Fugitive_, too."

"_The Outer Limits_ is another one for me, too."

"Really? You like that futuristic stuff?"

"Sure. Futuristic, creepy, scary. Science Fiction is fascinatin'."

"Never would have guessed," he shakes his head, smiling.

"Yeah, I never would have guessed _The Beverly Hillbillies,_" she teases.

"It's funny," he pouts. "Who was the first boy you kissed?" he smirks at her.

"Marvin Jacobs. Second grade."

"No, _properly_."

"You," she admits.

"Really?" Arthur is stunned.

"Boys didn't like me on account I was too smart," she says.

"Their loss is my gain," he declares smugly.

"What about you?"

"Sophia Donaldson. I was sixteen."

"Where's she now?"

"Married with four kids," he chuckles.

_Good,_ Gwen thinks, scowling at the unreasonable jealousy that rises.

"Hmm, what else? Favorite… person?" he grins at her, and the green-eyed monster retreats, tail between her legs.

"Now you're just fishin' again," she says, but she snuggles against him, smiling contentedly.


	17. Chapter 17

"Wake up, darlin', we're here," Arthur says quietly, stroking Gwen's cheek.

"Mmm," she scrunches against him and blinks her eyes open. "Did I fall asleep again?"

"Yes," he chuckles, kissing her forehead. "We're here," he repeats. She looks out and sees a house, not overlarge, nicely kept. A home. "Come on."

He climbs out of the car and opens her door again. They walk to the front door and it opens before Arthur can lift his finger to the doorbell.

"Arthur!" An older man with white hair and expressive eyebrows beams at them, opening the door. "This must be the lovely Guinevere," he smiles at her.

"Hello, sir, nice to meet you," Gwen says, offering her hand. He ignores it and hugs her.

"Gaius, are they here?" a woman's voice approaches now, and a small woman bustles into the foyer, all soft lines and twinkling eyes. "Morgana! They're here!" she yells over her shoulder.

"Be right down," a voice floats down the stairs.

"Hello, dear, I'm Aunt Alice," Alice says, hugging Gwen as well. "Oh, let me take your coat," she says, puzzling over the giant parka Gwen is still wearing.

"Hello," Gwen says, a bit overwhelmed at all the hugging. "It's Arthur's coat," she explains. "Mine was buried somewhere."

"Auntie, Uncle, you're gonna smother her," Arthur protests, bringing Gwen back to his side.

"It's all right," Gwen says, giggling a little, nervous. "I was just surprised, is all."

"Welcome to Milwaukee, Guinevere," Gaius says.

"Gwen, please," she tells them. "Arthur seems to insist on callin' me Guinevere, but most folks call me Gwen."

"Gwen it is, then," he nods.

Footfalls on the steps pull their attention to the staircase. Morgana floats down, all beautiful pale skin and flowing raven hair.

"Hey, Morgana," Arthur greets her casually.

"Arthur, how's my favorite cousin?" she grins at him.

"Your _only_ cousin?" he grins back.

"That, too."

"I am fantastic. Just spent all day in a car with the woman I love. Couldn't be better."

"You have got it bad," Morgana says, looking at Gwen now.

"Morgana, this is my fiancée, Guinevere," he introduces them.

"Gwen," she says, holding her hand out.

"No," Morgana says with a grin, hugging Gwen.

_Must be a family trait._ "Thought I'd give it a try," Gwen says, laughing now.

"Are you hungry? We waited dinner for you," Alice says.

"I am," Arthur says, looking at Gwen. She nods.

"You can unpack the car after we eat," Gaius says.

"Miss Alice? Can you point me to your…"

"Oh, yes, of course. First door on the left, dear," Alice says, pointing. "And call me Aunt Alice, Gwen!" she calls down the hall after her.

Gwen turns back and smiles at the friendly woman, relieved that Arthur's relatives are open and friendly. _Of course they are. They wouldn't have taken us in if they weren't. Arthur wouldn't have even asked them. I wonder if he asked or if they offered. I bet he was willing to stay in a hotel and they offered their home to us._

She exits the bathroom and finds her way to the kitchen, following the sounds and smells.

Arthur walks over to her as soon as he sees her. "You need to call Elyan, right?" he asks.

"Yeah, probably should," she nods.

"Uncle, Guinevere needs to call her brother to let him know we got here safe," Arthur says.

"Why don't you take her to the den? She can use the phone there, where it's not so loud," he says.

"We're not loud!" Morgana protests.

"Oh, give the girl some privacy," Gaius says. "You'll have all sorts of time to get to know her."

Arthur leads Gwen into Gaius' den, a cross between an office and a parlor. It's all dark wood and dark green walls, with a desk on one side and a couch on the other.

"He used to have a coffee table in front of this couch," Arthur mutters absently. "Phone is on the desk."

"It's all right that I'm dialin' long distance?" she asks, lifting the phone.

"Yes, it's fine, just dial," he says.

Gwen dials, looking around the room while she waits. "Elyan, it's Gwen," she says.

"Yes, we're here, safe and sound. No, no trouble, not really," she say, chuckling a little. "Well, some old folks gave us some dirty looks at the rest stop. And a policeman pulled me over when I was drivin' 'cause he couldn't figure out what a colored girl was doin' drivin' a car with Tennessee plates through Illinois all alone…"

"Yes, he was a damn fool. What? Oh, Arthur was lyin' down, sleepin'. He woke up and set that policeman straight right quick though, let me tell you," she says, grinning at Arthur.

"_Yes,_ Elyan, he did. And we made a new friend somewhere in the middle of Illinois. She owned the restaurant where we had lunch."

She listens for a minute, laughs, and then listens again. "Elyan, they're waitin' supper on us, I gotta go."

"Be good, Baby Brother. I love you." She listens a moment longer, then hangs up. She sighs and walks over to Arthur, who stands and wraps his arms around her.

"What was funny?" he asks, kissing the top of her head as she leans it against his chest.

"He told Latoya what we did. Swore her to secrecy, o' course," she interjects, looking up at him. "She sprayed sweet tea across the kitchen."

Arthur laughs. "I'm sure that was quite a sight," he says. "Come on, I'm hungry." He takes her hand and they walk back to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna make a stop here, I think," Arthur pauses, ducking into the bathroom.

"I ain't gonna wait for you," she calls, and she hears his laughter behind the closed door.

"How is your brother?" Gaius asks as she re-enters the kitchen.

"He's good, thank you," she says. Morgana indicates a chair and Gwen sits.

"Older or younger?" Morgana asks.

"Younger, by a year."

Arthur comes strolling back in now, his shoes off already.

"Did you wash your hands?" Alice asks, bringing a platter to the table.

"Of course I did, Auntie," Arthur answers, holding them up for inspection.

Dinner is roast beef with potatoes and carrots, and it's delicious. Gwen can tell that Arthur's family is being polite, but they really want to ask them a million questions. Her own nervousness makes her hold her own tongue as well, and dinner is a quiet affair.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Morgana finally exclaims, breaking the silence. "This is stupid. We all have questions, let's just ask them."

Gwen hides her grin behind her napkin as she wipes her face. _I think I like Morgana._

"What would y'all like to know?" Gwen asks.

"How did you meet?"

"I knocked her on her backside," Arthur says.

Gaius' impressive eyebrows rise. "Would you care to elaborate?"

So they tell them. The whole story. Dr. King's speech, the accident afterward, Gwen's father's death, Percy and Duncan and Ezra, the trial. Arthur talks, then Gwen interrupts and picks up where he left off, then Arthur starts in again.

Arthur's relatives are so interested that by the time Arthur and Gwen finish, they realize they've been sitting at the table for well over an hour.

"We did try to deny our feelings," Arthur finally says.

"I think I tried a little harder than you did, Baby," Gwen says.

"Yeah," Arthur admits, grinning sheepishly. "But I did try. I think I just accepted it sooner. Merlin's fault," he decides.

"Ah, yes, the mysterious Merlin," Morgana says. "Oh, I can ask you," she turns to Gwen. "Is Merlin a real person or is Arthur just making him up?"

Gwen laughs. "He's real, and he's a charmin' man. Very talented."

"Oh, so he _was_ tellin' the truth," Morgana teases.

"Morgana, stop teasing Arthur," Alice says, finally standing to clear the dishes. "I would like to meet this Merlin some time, though, if he's as good a musician as you say," she adds.

"Are you a musician, Miss—I mean, Aunt Alice?" Gwen asks, standing as well. "Can I help?"

"Yes, I am, Gwen, I teach piano lessons. And you just sit back down. You've had a long day and you don't need to help clear. Morgana, however…" she looks pointedly at her daughter.

Morgana sighs and stands as Gwen sits again. She really wants to help, but she doesn't want to insult them, either.

"I know you want to help, darlin'. Try again tomorrow if it means that much to you," Arthur leans over and says softly.

She smiles at Arthur and nods. "We should unload the car," she suggests.

"Mmm. Right," he stands.

"I'll help," Gaius joins them as they walk to the front door again, pausing so Arthur can put his shoes back on.

"You should've left your shoes on, Arthur," Gwen sighs.

"I hate shoes," Arthur says. "Heh. We talked about favorites in the car, but we didn't talk about things we _don't_ like. Top o' my list: shoes."

Gwen laughs. _I love this relaxed, silly Arthur._ "I don't like tuna fish," she tells him.

"Noted," he nods, heading out the door.

Gwen hauls her big gray suitcase in and meets Alice in the foyer. "First on the right, dear," Alice directs her.

Arthur follows with a box, and Alice stops him. "Is that yours or Gwen's?"

"Mine," Arthur says, heading in the same direction as Gwen.

"Where do you think you're going, young man?" Alice asks. Gaius strolls through with another box, one of Gwen's, and he passes through to the guest room.

"Um, guest room?" Arthur asks.

"Nice try," Alice says, her hands on her hips. Morgana is watching, amused, from the entrance to the kitchen.

"I don't get to sleep in the guest room?" He sets the box down.

"Are you married yet?" Alice asks. By now Gwen has returned and is watching with interest as well.

"No. But we're engaged. She's got Mama's ring and everything," he points at Gwen's hand.

"Den," Alice declares, pointing.

"But…"

"Arthur…"

"We wouldn't _do_ anything, just sleep."

"Den," she repeats. "The sofa pulls out into a bed."

Arthur pouts, but picks up the box anyway. "I honestly didn't think you'd let me, but I had to try," he sighs, heading back to the den where Gwen called her brother earlier. _Ah, so that's why the table was gone._

"I'll bring you some bedding in just a minute," Alice calls sweetly after him. He grunts a reply.

xXx

"Can I help you, miss?" Arthur's voice in her doorway makes Gwen jump and she quickly closes her suitcase.

"Arthur, you startled me!" she exclaims. "How's your dad?" she asks.

"Same as always. He was happy we arrived safely. I think he's still in shock that we actually left," he says, leaning against the doorframe.

"So am I," she chuckles.

He steps inside, walking towards her. "So what's in there that's so important, anyway?" he asks, nodding at the suitcase.

"Nothin' that you need to be seein' right now," she says, sitting on the suitcase.

"Underwear?" He grins at her.

"Arthur!" she exclaims again, but she starts giggling even though she is blushing now.

"Must be," he decides.

"Yes, but there are other things as well. You can help me unpack, but do one of those boxes." She points.

"Arthur," Gaius appears in the doorway now, knocking as he pokes his head in.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any boxes for the office?"

"Bein' shipped there directly. Prob'ly be here Wednesday," he says.

Gaius nods. "All right. You two need anything?"

"No thank you, sir," Gwen says. Arthur shakes his head no.

"I would prefer Uncle Gaius," he says, smiling.

Gwen smiles back at him and looks at her hands.

"All right then, good night," Gaius says, turning to leave.

"Um, Uncle Gaius?" Gwen asks.

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you for takin' us in. We really appreciate it," she says. "It was mighty nice of you."

"You're welcome. And it has nothing to do with nice. You're family," he declares. "Now, I'm off to watch _The Defenders._" He turns to leave again, pauses, pushes Gwen's door wide open, and strolls casually down the hall.

"Subtle, Uncle," Arthur calls after him. They can hear the older man's laughter fading down the hall.

They unpack quietly for a bit, Gwen surreptitiously tucking undergarments into a dresser Alice had indicated she could use, Arthur trying to be good and not peek.

"Arthur?" she asks after a bit.

"Yes?"

"Did you really want to sleep in here with me? I mean, did you really think _I_ would… I mean…" she sighs. "I don't know what I mean." She sits heavily on the bed.

Arthur sits beside her. "Guinevere, I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable or… um… compromise your virtue in any way," he says softly, taking her hand. "I mean, of _course_ I would love to sleep in here with you, in this nice comfy bed with you in my arms instead of all alone on a thin hide-a-bed mattress. And I meant it when I told Alice that we wouldn't… do anything. At least not until we're married. But even if my Aunt and Uncle would allow it, if _you_ said no, I would still sleep in the den."

"Oh," Gwen says, the imagery of her sleeping tucked in his embrace throwing her logic for a loop momentarily. "I'm just surprised you tried, I guess. That you thought it was a possibility."

"I suppose deep down I knew it never would be," he admits. "And part of me just likes gettin' a rise out of my aunt."

"And you are a man, after all," she teases, nudging him with her elbow.

"I am at that," he declares. "Speaking of when we're married… when _do_ you want to get married, anyway?"

"Well, I reckon you don't want to wait too terribly long," Gwen says, leaning her head on his shoulder now.

"Not really…"

"I'd really like it if Elyan could come up for it," she says.

"I'm sure we could work that out."

"How about over Thanksgiving? That would give him time for travel without having to miss any work."

"Thanksgiving weekend it is, then," Arthur nods. "November 30. Should be an easy enough date to remember, too," he grins.

"Important," she nods. "You think Merlin'd come, too?"

"We can ask. Bet he would."

Arthur yawns. "You should go to bed, you're tired," Gwen says, lifting her head from his shoulder. She reaches up and touches his cheek. "I had two naps; you just had one interrupted one."

"You don't mind?" he asks, turning his face to kiss her palm.

"I just told you to go to bed, didn't I?" she asks, half-smiling.

"I need a goodnight kiss," he says quietly, leaning towards her now.

"Mmm, I think we can—"

He cuts her words off with his lips, pressing them softly against hers, snaking his hands around her waist now.

Her hand on his cheek slides back to thread into his hair as he deepens the kiss, asking for entrance with his tongue, sliding it along her lower lip. She relents, unable to resist him, kissing him back, caressing his tongue with hers.

She slowly pulls away, slightly dazed. "Go to bed, Baby," she whispers, kissing his cheek.

"You know, for never having _properly_ kissed a man before me, you're pretty darn good at it," he remarks, standing. She grins at her hands, blushing.

Arthur looks back at her from the doorway and smiles at her. "Good night, my love."

Once he disappears down the hall, Gwen returns to her suitcase and pulls out a parcel wrapped in black crepe paper. She holds it to her chest a moment, then walks out, one door down and across the hall.

She pauses outside the door, hearing music playing. "One Fine Day" by the Chiffons. Gwen listens for a moment. _Wow, Morgana really can't sing at all._ She knocks and the music stops.

"Hi, Gwen, my music wasn't too loud, was it?" Morgana asks, opening the door.

"Not at all. I didn't even hear it until I got right outside your door."

"What have you got there?" she asks.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course." She steps back and lets Gwen in.

"I need to hide this from Arthur," Gwen says. "It's my Mama's wedding dress. I'm fixin' to wear it for our weddin'."

"Ooo!" Morgana exclaims, closing the door, suddenly very excited. "Let me see, let me see!"

Gwen unwraps it to reveal a beautiful cream-colored dress. It has short sleeves and the bodice criss-crosses down to a beaded waist above a long skirt. Simple and elegant.

"It's beautiful," Morgana sighs. "Your mom had good taste. Does it fit?"

Gwen nods. "I tried it on Friday before I packed it, to make sure," she admits. "I can sew, so if I needed to alter something, I could have. But my mama and I were the same size, luckily."

"Were?"

"She died five years ago," Gwen says.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Morgana says, smiling sadly. "But we need to hang this up so it doesn't wrinkle. Here, we'll put it in my closet. Arthur would never even think to look there."

"Thank you," Gwen says. "He can be kind of nosy, and I don't want him seein' this. It's bad luck."

"That it is," Morgana agrees. "When are you getting married?"

"We just decided on November 30. That way my brother can come, because it's over Thanksgiving."

"You'll need a wrap or a shawl or you'll freeze with those short sleeves," Morgana says, putting the dress on a hanger and placing it inconspicuously in her closet.

"That was something else I wanted to ask you," Gwen says.

"What's that?"

"I think I'm going to need some warm clothes."

"Oh, honey, we can _definitely_ go shopping," Morgana says, grinning.


	18. Chapter 18

Gwen blinks her eyes open. _Where am I? Oh, right. Milwaukee. Arthur's uncle's house._ She looks at the clock. _9:37! I haven't slept this late in years!_

She swings her feet down, sliding them into her slippers. She looks around the room. _I didn't bring that many boxes, why do I still have half of them left? Oh. Right. After Arthur went to bed I spent the rest of the evening in Morgana's room till far too late._

Gwen has decided that she definitely likes Morgana. She's exuberant and witty. _Arthur said she can be a bitch in court. That must be something to see,_ she ponders, standing up finally, shrugging her fuzzy robe on and padding across the hall to the bathroom.

_I suppose, she chose what is largely a man's career, so she needs to be able to hold her own with the boys._ She uses the toilet and studies her reflection in the mirror. After deciding that moving 600 miles to elope with a white man doesn't show on her face, she takes a drink of water and heads back out into the hallway.

The house is quiet. Morgana's door is still closed. _But surely Gaius and Alice would be up by now, wouldn't they?_ Their bedroom door is open, but there is no sound coming from within. She decides to investigate, walking down the hall towards the kitchen and living area.

There is no sign of Alice or Gaius, but she hears a faint rumbling sound. Rattling. _Sounds like one of Elyan's power tools._ She moves towards the sound, following it to the door of the den.

_He didn't snore in the car yesterday…_ She pushes the door open a tiny crack to see Arthur sprawled on his back diagonally across the hide-a-bed, mouth open, snoring away, blankets a tangle around his lower half, his one foot sticking out.

He has no shirt on. Suddenly the snoring doesn't matter so much. Suddenly Gwen finds herself wondering if he has pants on under the blankets, because all she can see below his waist is his left foot. And even that intrigues her.

He snorts and stirs, and Gwen closes the door again, quietly but very quickly. _If he caught me lookin', I'd never hear the end of it. He wouldn't care, but he'd tease me to no end._

The image of her shirtless fiancé firmly branded on her brain now, she heads to the kitchen, feeling mildly smug with the realization that her future husband has a _very_ nice body.

_Not that it matters. But it sho'nuff helps._

Gwen looks around. Still no sign of Gaius or Alice. Finally she spies a note on the table.

_Kids, we've gone to church. Be back after 10._

"Well, that explains it," Gwen says softly to herself, setting the note back down. _Hungry._ She stares at the kitchen, biting her lower lip, not sure what to do. _This ain't my home, but it is now, sort of. At least until Thanksgiving. But I don't want to go delvin' into their cupboards…_

"Morning, Gwen," Morgana's sleepy voice saves her from her dilemma.

"Hey," she says, turning. "Your folks went to church," she says, holding up the note.

"I figured as much. Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly so, yes," Gwen nods. "I must have been tired, 'cause with all the excitement of movin', I didn't think I'd sleep."

"Well, staying up past one certainly helps with that," Morgana grins, and Gwen giggles. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Gwen nods. "I was, um, just tryin' to decide what to do about that…"

"Gwen, this is your home now. For the next month, anyway. Don't be shy. Mom and I went to the market yesterday and bought a bunch of food, because, well, Arthur's a pig."

Gwen giggles at this. "He certainly sounds like one right now," she says.

"He didn't warn you about that?" Morgana says, lifting her eyebrows.

"No. He slept in the car some, but he was quiet then. Drooled on my leg a bit, though…"

Morgana laughs now. "Near as we could figure, he snores when he's on his back. Just give him a shove and he'll quiet down. He must be on his back now. I can hear him from here."

"He is," Gwen says, the words falling out before her brain can stop them.

"Peeking?" Morgana smirks at her, and Gwen blushes.

"So what should we make for breakfast?" Gwen asks hurriedly, ready to change the subject before Morgana delves further. She heads to the refrigerator and opens it, looking inside.

"Gwen," Morgana presses, "why are you blushing?"

"I'm not."

"You are. Did you get more than you bargained for when you peeked?"

"It's so late; probably just cereal and toast. I gotta make y'all some biscuits and gravy sometime, though…"

"Gwen!" Morgana exclaims, laughing now.

"I didn't see nothin' improper," Gwen finally answers, exasperated. "He just had no shirt on."

"Yeah, I don't suppose you would have seen him without a shirt at this point…" Morgana muses.

"No," Gwen says, finding a box of Cheerios and a banana.

Morgana shows her where the bowls are and gets the milk. "So I take it you liked what you saw, then?"

"Morgana!" Gwen giggles again.

"Ooo, you did," Morgana says, fixing herself a bowl as well. Gwen peels the banana and slices it on top of the cereal.

"Want half?" Gwen offers.

"Sure," Morgana says, sliding her bowl over.

"He has a very nice chest, yes," Gwen admits quietly.

"If you say so. He's my cousin, so I, of course, have no opinion," Morgana chuckles. "Orange juice or apple juice?"

"Apple, please."

"What's for breakfast?" Gwen and Morgana are so busy chatting and making breakfast that neither of them noticed that the distant noise has stopped. They jump.

"Arthur!" Morgana exclaims.

"Um… Cheerios with banana," Gwen says, vehemently _not_ looking at him, standing there, all adorably sleep-rumpled and shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of light blue pajama bottoms. _It suddenly feels a lot warmer in this kitchen._

"Arthur, go put a shirt on before your fiancée dies of embarrassment," Morgana says, waving her hand at him.

"You're embarrassed?" Arthur asks, curious.

"Well, perhaps _distracted_ is a more accurate way of putting it," Morgana grins now.

Gwen would very much like to climb into the refrigerator and close the door behind her.

"Oh, is that so?" Arthur grins now, but Gwen is still stubbornly looking everywhere but at him. "Okay, I'll go put something on," he says, relenting. He turns and walks away, and Gwen looks.

_Lordy, the back is as good as the front._

"Guinevere, you are staring," Morgana whispers, highly amused.

xXx

Monday, Arthur goes to the office with Gaius. Gwen finishes unpacking her things and starts unpacking the rest of Arthur's boxes for him while he's gone.

Alice has a couple adult piano students during the day. Gwen had gone into the large living room and admired the shiny brown grand piano dominating the space, idly wondering what Merlin would make of such a beautiful instrument and also realizing that such a piano probably cost more than her car.

The first of Alice's students wasn't very good at all. Just a beginner; still learning. The second is much better, and Gwen finds herself humming quietly along with the music.

The phone rings in the middle of the lesson, and Gwen stares at it, unsure if she should answer it.

"Gwen, would you answer that please?" Alice calls.

_All right, then._ "Hello, Pendragon residence," she says, deciding to identify the house to whomever it is on the other end. Just in case.

"Hello, darlin'."

"Arthur!" she exclaims, careful not to be too loud.

"I'm glad you answered, 'cause I was callin' for you," he says.

"I only answered because Alice is teachin' a lesson right now."

"I can hear it," he says. "I just got a call from Geoffrey."

"Oh?"

"He confirmed that our accounts have been transferred to the M&I Bank up here," he says. "I have account numbers written down. Let me tell you yours so you can head over there and sign the paperwork."

"Let me get a paper and pencil, hold on." She sets the phone down and gingerly rummages through drawers until she finds a scrap of paper and a pen.

"Okay," she says. He tells her the number and also gives her the address. "I'll probably wait until Alice is done with her lesson and have her go with me. I want to drive, though. Need to learn my way around."

"That's my girl," he says. "I'm goin' over in just a minute. Uncle gave me his blessin' to go take care of it. Got a lot of assets to look after, you know," he says, sounding a little overwhelmed by the fact that he suddenly has so much money.

"I can't imagine you have a lot to do right now anyway. Least not until your things come."

"Exactly. I'm tryin' to decide what I want to do, though. If I want to specialize in somethin'. You know, other than traffic tickets. I have an idea, but I need to think about it a bit, and I want to get your opinion, too."

"Mine?"

"Well o' course yours, Guinevere. You're going to be my wife, and I value your opinion more than anyone else's."

"Oh," she says softly, but she is smiling. "I should let you go. I'm unpackin' your boxes."

"Oh. Thank you," he says, sounding a little surprised. "You find my underwear yet?" She can hear him grinning over the phone.

"Arthur Pendragon, you are preoccupied with underdrawers," she says, looking at the ceiling.

"Well, you're just so pretty when you blush, I can't help it."

"You can't even see me."

"Ah, but the memory of how you looked yesterday mornin' is still quite fresh in my mind," he teases.

"I'm hangin' up now," she says.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"Get back to work," she says.

"If I must."

"See you later, Baby."

"Love you. 'Bye."

"Love you, too."

xXx

The rest of the week passes slowly, but somehow quickly too. Gwen finds that she likes listening to Alice give lessons. Most of them are in the late afternoon, teaching children after school. She has just a few students during the day, scattered here and there.

Alice takes Gwen out, Gwen driving, showing her the places she might like to know. The bank, on Monday. The Piggly Wiggly. The Lutheran church they belong to. Gwen is interested in this; it seems that everyone in Milwaukee is either Catholic or Lutheran. She sees a few Baptist churches as well, but she asks if they can go with them to their church the next Sunday.

"Of course, Gwen, we'd be happy to have you join us. We didn't ask this week because you both were still sleeping and you had _just_ gotten here."

"That's what I reckoned. I would like to get married in a church, of course. I was raised Baptist, but I know the Lord looks after the Lutherans, too," she jokes.

"Yes, he does, Gwen. At least we hope so," Alice laughs. "We can mention it to Pastor Gary. Gaius and I have been members there a very long time, so if you and Arthur wish to get married there, I'm sure there won't be a problem."

"Thank you, Alice. I also want to say thank you for taking us in like this. You didn't have to, and it means everything to me that you did."

"Oh, stop, now, Gwen, it's nothing. Arthur is always such fun to have around, and you're just a ray of sunshine yourself."

"Thank you," Gwen says, embarrassed now.

"You're not accustomed to compliments, are you?" Alice asks.

"Not from white folks, not really," she admits. "Aunt Alice?" Gwen asks, pulling her car onto their street now.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would it be all right if I cooked Sunday dinner for y'all this week? I do really like to cook, and I'd like to help out around the house since we're stayin' there, and…"

"Of course, that would be fine, dear, what did you have in mind?" Alice asks.

"Well, Arthur is dyin' to try my fried chicken. I thought I'd do that."

"Sounds delicious. Real southern fried chicken, I can't wait. We'll go to the market on Saturday, then."

They climb out of the car and head towards the house. "Can we do Saturday morning? Morgana is takin' me to Gimbels in the afternoon. I need more winter clothes," she chuckles.

"Saturday morning it is, dear," Alice answers, waving to a neighbor who waves back, but he looks a little confused seeing her there with Gwen. "Do you need anything for the wedding? Like a dress or a veil or…"

"I have a dress, actually. It was my mama's and it's hidin' in Morgana's closet."

"Good place to hide," Alice smirks.

"But I might look at some new shoes to go with it. And Morgana mentioned a shawl or a wrap, but I might make that myself. And maybe a nightgown…" she trails off, blushing now.

"Of course, you need something special for the wedding night, dear," Alice says, completely at ease.

"I… haven't decided about a veil yet. I might not wear one. My mama didn't," Gwen says, shifting the topic back. "Would you like to see the dress?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Alice says, her eyes lighting up now.

xXx

Arthur's boxes arrived Wednesday, as anticipated, and by Thursday he's nearly settled in his new office. Gwen is beginning to think that he forgot about talking to her about his possible legal specialty, because he hasn't mentioned it since Monday afternoon on the phone.

After dinner, Gwen is puttering in her room, still trying to decide where to put things. Two boxes arrived at the house today as well, one for Arthur, one for Gwen. She numbered her remaining boxes so that Elyan would know what order she needed them. This box was quite heavy, as it was mostly books. Her summer clothes are, of course, in the last box.

She heaves the half-empty box onto her bed so she doesn't have to bend over so far.

"Ow!" she exclaims as a sharp pain shoots through her shoulder. She drops the box on the bed and lifts her arm, holding her shoulder.

"Are you all right, Guinevere?" Arthur seems to have magically appeared in her doorway.

"Ambulance chaser," she teases, but she is still frowning, moving her arm around, trying to find the sore spot with her other hand.

"I was on my way to come and see you and I heard you yell, for your information," he says, walking in. "Sit."

She does, and he slides onto the bed behind her. "You're overdoin' it, darlin'," he says as he starts rubbing her shoulder, his strong hands gently prodding, trying to find where it hurts.

"I am not. I just moved a box," she protests. He reaches out and grabs the box with one hand, trying to move it.

"A box that is too heavy for you to be liftin'," he declares. "How many books you got in there?"

"Not enough," she giggles. "And that's not even all of them. Ohh… ow… right there…"

"That's the spot," he agrees, running his thumb along the edge of her shoulder blade.

"Ohh…" she groans, and he eases up some. "No, keep going," she tells him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says, sweeping her braid over her opposite shoulder so it won't be in the way.

"You're not," she says, groaning again.

_She has to stop making those noises._ "Guinevere, my aunt and uncle are going to think we're up to something in here," he mutters.

"With the door hangin' open?" she asks. "Ooo. There."

He runs his thumb up, pressing the side of her neck, easing the tightened muscle along the side.

"Did I ever tell you that you have really beautiful skin, Guinevere?" he asks softly, his eyes glued to the soft curve of her neck.

She hesitates before answering, taken by surprise. "No," she finally says.

"You do," he says. "It's soft and smooth and just flawless."

Gwen gasps and her eyes drift close when she feels his lips on her neck. His hand has stilled on her shoulder, but his lips are busy, moving first up her neck then down, trailing kisses that make her head swim.

"Arthur," she whispers, dropping her head to the side. She leans back into him as he wraps his arm around her waist.

"Mmm," he hums against her, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Ahem."

They jump apart. Arthur clears his throat awkwardly and Gwen hops off the bed, looking anywhere except at Arthur's uncle standing in the doorway.

"We were just—"

"I know perfectly well what you were doing," Gaius chuckles. "And as long as everyone's clothes are on, I don't care. It may be hard to fathom, but I was young once, myself. I just stopped to see if you wanted any popcorn. Alice is going to make me some."

"No, thank you," Arthur says. "Guinevere?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine."

"Another time, then," Gaius says, walking way, still chuckling at them.

Arthur looks over and sees Gwen's shoulders shaking. "Guinevere, are you all right?" he asks, alarmed. He bounces off the bed and goes to her.

She is giggling, her hand over her mouth. "That was so embarrassing," she manages.

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief and wraps his arms around her, laughing a little now, too. "I actually came in here to talk to you," he says. "But you are very distracting."

"Yes, Baby, it's all my fault," she says indulgently. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Remember on Monday when I mentioned about specialization?"

"Yes, I was beginnin' to think that you'd forgotten," she says, sitting on the bed again. She flexes her shoulder a few times.

"Still sore?" he asks.

"A little," she says. "I'll take some aspirin before I go to bed."

"I could rub it some more," he offers, grinning at her.

"You best keep your hands to yourself, Arthur Pendragon," she says, but she can't keep a straight face.

"You're probably right," he laughs and sits on the bed with her again. "Anyway. So at Uncle's office, Morgana does divorces, Alvarr does personal injury, Uncle does the big high-profile tricky things, and Cenred handles business and tax law."

"Okay."

"I was thinking… after doing your case, I really liked helping you and Duncan and Ezra. Callin' people out on their shit."

"And by 'people' you mean rich white folks," Gwen says.

"Mostly," he shrugs. "I'd like to specialize in civil rights law, I think."

Gwen says nothing, pondering this a minute.

"Guinevere?"

"It's going to be tough for you. As a rich white man yourself," she points out. "You're gonna have a hard time gettin' clients, and gettin' them to trust you."

"I know. But I won you over, didn't I?"

"Not really an apples-to-apples comparison, Arthur," she points out.

"All right then, I got Elyan to trust me. _That_ should count for somethin'."

"You got a point, there," she nods, half-smiling.

"Uncle gave me a name of the man who does most of the civil rights cases in town. I'm going to get in touch with him and see if he'll be willing to work with me. You know, give me his overflow. Uncle says he has more than he can handle."

"That's… too bad. That there are that many cases that need attention," Gwen says.

"You're right. I never thought of it from that perspective," he says, angling his head and frowning thoughtfully. "But, see, that's why I value your opinion. You make me think in ways I wouldn't normally think."

"Well, it's to be expected. We come from very different places," she says, reaching for his hand.

He lifts it and kisses it. Then he prods her engagement ring. "We still need to get this sized," he comments.

"Maybe I'll take it Saturday when I go shoppin' with Morgana," she says.

"Ah, yes, the big shopping trip," he nods. "Can I… can I give you some money? I mean… I know you have money, but I've got all that just sittin' there, and, well, we're gonna get married pretty soon anyway and then half'll be yours, too, and… Lord, this ain't comin' out right. I'm tryin' to offer you money for your shoppin' without insultin' you, all right?"

She blinks at him, his avalanche of words rolling over her. "Half will be mine?"

"Of course. We'll be married."

"But… that's _yours,_ Arthur. Your Mama left that to _you._"

"Yes, for me to use as I see fit. I see fit to share it with the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with."

"No."

"Yes."

"Arthur…"

"Guinevere, you're gonna be my wife. What's mine is yours. You already have my heart and my soul, so what's a few bucks?" he asks, bringing his hand to her cheek.

_Damn him. I can't argue that._ "Thank you," she whispers. "You don't have to. I don't want you for your money. You know that."

"All the more reason why I wanna share it with you, my love," he says. "I've, um, actually got it already set up to consolidate our accounts after the wedding anyway," he admits.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, shoving him playfully.

"So do you need anything for Saturday? I'd like to know before tomorrow so I can go to the bank for you."

"Maybe. I'll think on it."

"Best I can hope for, I guess," he says. "Now. What are you doing with all these books?" he asks, peering into the box.

An hour later, Gwen is yawning and she wants to take some aspirin and go to bed. She kisses Arthur goodnight, and he turns to leave.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"If I didn't say before, I would be very proud for you to specialize in civil rights law."

"Thank you. That means a lot. I'll contact that guy."

"Goodnight, Baby."

"Goodnight, Guinevere," he says, and her stomach does that curious flip thing again at the sound of her name on his lips. Only this time it's slightly different. Deeper, with a bit of an ache to it.


	19. Chapter 19

Gaius' head snaps up at the sound of the front door slamming and grocery bags being set a little more emphatically than usual on the kitchen counter. He sets his newspaper aside and goes to the kitchen, glancing at Arthur, who follows him.

As soon as he sees Alice's face he knows she's steamed about something. "How was the market, dear?" he asks cautiously.

"Mortifying," Alice snaps.

"What happened?" Gaius asks.

"Guinevere?" Arthur asks quietly, having a sneaking suspicion.

"It was _mostly_ fine," Gwen answers.

"Until we got to the checkout lane," Alice huffs.

_"I hope this'll be enough," Gwen says, staring suspiciously at the two whole chickens, pound of bacon, several bunches of collard greens, sack of cornmeal, box of Corn Flakes, sack of sweet potatoes, and a bag of pecans on the belt._

_ "Gwen, we've got plenty of food. We'll need to have the neighbors over to help us eat all this, at this rate," Alice chuckles._

_ "Sorry. Must be a southern thing. There's nothin' more embarrassin' to a southern woman than runnin' out of food."_

_ "It's not a southern thing," Alice chuckles, "it's a female thing."_

_ Gwen laughs at this, feeling reassured._

_ "Hello, Betty, how are you?" Alice greets the cashier pleasantly._

_ "Hi, Alice, I'm fine, thanks. Wish I didn't have to work, but what can you do?" Betty says, ringing up Alice's half of the groceries with a smile. Gwen had stubbornly insisted on paying for the things for Sunday's dinner herself._

_ "Do you think Gaius and Morgana will like it?" Gwen asks, biting her lip._

_ "Of course they will. Well, Morgana may turn her nose up at the greens, but she'll at least give it a try," Alice says. "You should have seen her when she was little. Trying to get that girl to eat a vegetable was like pulling teeth. Actually, trying to get that girl to do anything she didn't want to do was a trial," Alice says, able to chuckle about it now._

_ "Yeah, I can see that about her. Independent mind," Gwen nods._

_ "Oh, goodness, where are my manners," Alice says, flustered. "Betty, this is Gwen." Alice pulls some bills out of her purse to pay for her groceries and waits while Betty rings up Gwen._

_ "Hello," Betty nods politely to Gwen._

_ "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Gwen smiles back._

_ "So you and Gaius finally got yourselves a maid, huh?" Betty asks Alice._

_ "What?" Alice's face is suddenly like stone._

_ "Um, isn't she…?"_

_ "Gwen is not our maid, Betty. Why would you assume such a thing?"_

_ "I… I'm sorry… I don't…"_

_ "Gwen is family, Betty. She's engaged to be married to our nephew Arthur. Remember I told you last week when Morgana and I were in here buying half the store? They're staying with us until the wedding," Alice snaps._

_ "Oh… I…"_

_ "It's all right, Aunt Alice," Gwen says softly. She sees a small colored girl with her mother staring at her from the next line over, her eyes wide, her little round face taking in every detail. She smiles at the girl and gives her a little wave, trying to let her know that everything's okay._

_ "No, Gwen, it's not all right," she says. "I've known you for a long time, Betty, and it saddens me – no, it sickens me – that you would automatically jump to that conclusion. I know you never would have guessed that she would be Arthur's fiancée, but jumping immediately to_ maid? _Gwen is an educated woman with a college degree."_

_ "You're… you're right, Alice. I'm sorry," Betty stammers. She quickly resumes ringing Gwen's purchases._

_ "It's not me who requires your apology, Betty."_

_ "I'm sorry, Gwen. I shouldn't have…"  
_

_"Thank you," Gwen says, not knowing what else to say. She stands straight and tall, consciously keeping her face neutral and her eyes kind. For the benefit of the little girl in the next lane who is still watching and listening._

_ Betty tells Gwen the total, and Gwen pays. She briefly considers "accidentally" flashing the large collection of bills she has in her purse, courtesy of Arthur's trip to the bank yesterday, but decides against it. Money doesn't solve that particular problem._

_ Gwen collects her change and her bags. "Thank you, Betty, you have a nice day, now," she says, quite pleasantly. She sees the little girl and her mother finishing their transaction, and Gwen looks directly at the child and lifts her own chin an inch. A message._ Always keep your chin up. _The girl smiles at her._

_ Alice huffs and grumbles all the way back to the car._

"I was mortified. Just… incensed," Alice says.

"Alice, dear, calm down. It sounds to me like you put Betty firmly in her place and that she'll definitely think twice about opening her mouth in the future," Gaius says, hugging his wife.

Arthur had been holding Gwen's hand the whole time she was relaying the story, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand.

"So you're okay?" he asks quietly, gently tilting her head up and kissing her.

"I'm fine," she says.

"You're sure?" Alice asks, suspicious.

"Aunt Alice, Uncle Gaius, when Arthur and I decided to come up here, we knew it would be better, but we certainly never thought that this was any kind of Promised Land."

"Well, that's good, I guess. I'm only sorry that it got proved so quickly."

Gwen sighs and sits at the table. "Throughout my life, I have been called all manner of hurtful and hateful things. I don't think I need to tell you what they are," she says. "Just last month one was even spray-painted across the front of my house."

"Oh, my God," Alice says.

"So did it hurt when Betty assumed I was your maid? 'Course it did. But my daddy used to tell me: 'There are a lot of ignorant and narrow-minded people in this world, Gwennie. You can't let the stupidity of others affect your own happiness. We may not own much, but we own our happiness.'"

"Your dad had a good head on his shoulders," Gaius says, nodding.

"He did. He didn't have much of an education, but he was smart in that way that they don't teach in schools," Gwen says.

"And he would be very proud of his daughter," Arthur says. He has been standing quietly behind her, softly rubbing her shoulders while she talked.

"I didn't notice the little girl," Alice admits. "I'm sorry she had to see that."

"I'm not," Gwen says. "I'm glad she saw it and I'm glad I was able to show her that I wasn't gon' let some… misguided cashier get me down."

Morgana comes shuffling into the kitchen now, in her bathrobe and slippers. She stops and surveys the scene in front of her. "Did I miss something?"

xXx

"You're sure?" Morgana asks, steering her Thunderbird into a parking spot.

"For heaven's sake, Morgana, I am fine," Gwen sighs, laughing. "I thought you were happy I still wanted to go shoppin' after this morning."

"I am. I just… I don't want a repeat," Morgana says.

"It will be fine," Gwen says. "If I let one… stupid cashier stop me from leavin' the house, what good does that do? If I just stick my head in the sand and hide from white folks it doesn't do anything to help other colored folks who might not be as brave as me. Like that little girl."

"You sure you're not a lawyer?" Morgana asks, impressed.

"Kindergarten teacher," Gwen laughs, shaking her head. "Now come on. I got money burnin' a hole in my pocket."

Luckily, their trip is free of major incident. Gwen learns quickly that Morgana has a wicked glare and a wicked streak, loudly, openly and freely referring to Gwen as "my cousin," just to watch people's reactions. She also learned that once the salesclerks discover that money isn't of much consequence, they'll bend over backwards to serve you, even if your skin is green and you have antennae sticking out of your head.

_Doesn't mean it's right, but it's the world,_ she thinks, her fingers tracing a silk nightgown.

"Do I want to know why you're looking at that?" Morgana sidles up, asking quietly in Gwen's ear.

"Probably not," Gwen says, blushing. "But pretend I'm not marryin' your cousin for just five minutes, now."

"It's very pretty," Morgana says, looking at it. It's pale lavender silk with spaghetti straps, a fitted bodice, and an empire waist. "It has a robe, too," she points out.

"Yes," Gwen says. "I really like it. Do you think not-your-cousin Arthur would like it?"

"For the wedding night?" Morgana asks, raising her eyebrow.

Gwen nods, blushing again.

"I think he would, but I think he'd probably prefer you wear nothing at all," she says bluntly, grinning devilishly.

"Morgana!" Gwen exclaims, falling into a fit of giggles.

"Well, you asked," Morgana says, laughing as she breezes away again.

Gwen digs through the gowns on the rack, finds her size, and takes it over to the counter where she has some other things piled, waiting under the watchful eye of a clerk named Marianne.

"Very nice choice, miss," Marianne says, removing it from the hanger and folding it neatly along with several sweaters, some pants, a long skirt, a scarf with matching mittens, and a heavy winter coat.

"Gwen!" Morgana calls her over to where she is standing by some dresses. "What do you think?" she asks, holding out an emerald green dress.

"For you or for me?"

"For me," Morgana says, holding it up to her body.

"For you, I like it. It's a little flashy for me," Gwen says.

"Flashy is just what I like," Morgana says, slinging it over her arm. "Got everything you were looking for?"

"Yes, I think so," Gwen says, and they walk back to the counter. Gwen stops by the nightgowns and grabs a couple heavy flannel ones as well. "Forgot I wanted some of these," she mutters.

"Somehow I don't think you'll have any trouble staying warm during our cold winter nights," Morgana teases.

"Okay, you can stop pretending he's not your cousin, now," Gwen says. _When will I stop blushing about this?_

xXx

That night, Gwen and Arthur join Gaius to watch television for a bit, Gwen cuddled against Arthur on the sofa while Gaius dozes in his recliner. Every once in a while he snores, snorts, and then jerks awake. Gwen suppresses her giggles in Arthur's shoulder.

"Enjoying the show, Uncle?" Arthur teases.

"Hush, you," Gaius shoots back. He knows he's busted and he doesn't care. "My house, my TV, my electric bill. If I want to fall asleep in front of _Gunsmoke,_ I will."

"If he drifts off and we try to change the channel, he immediately wakes up and yells that he was watching that," Arthur whispers in Gwen's ear.

"I thought my daddy was the only one who did that," she whispers back, giggling. He kisses the edge of her ear, then nips it lightly. She smacks his arm, shocked, ignoring the delicious goosebumps that have just sprung up along that side. "Arthur!" she hisses.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks quietly.

"No, it's just… your uncle is _right there._"

"So you liked it?"

"I'm not answerin' that."

"You did."

She can feel him grinning against her ear. Then he does it again. She pinches him. "Stop it!"

"I bet whatever you two are whispering about over there is much more interesting than this show," Gaius mutters.

"See, now we're botherin' your uncle."

"No, we're not, he's just teasin'," Arthur says.

"Behave yourself," Gwen admonishes. Really she just wants to turn around and kiss him senseless, but she doesn't. She won't.

The show ends and Gwen has been doing some drifting and nodding herself now, so she gets up and excuses herself to go to bed.

She is just heading from the bathroom back to her room, already in her nightgown, when Arthur pops over for his goodnight kiss.

"You're late," she says, crossing her arms around her middle, feeling slightly vulnerable in just her nightgown.

"You look cute in your jammies," he says, smirking at her.

"I don't like you seein' me in just my nightgown like this," she says, heading into her room and grabbing her robe. He follows.

"You're covered from your neck to your toes, Guinevere, I saw more of you on the day I met you," he chuckles.

Gwen just glares at him. "You know what I mean." She looks down at her left hand, missing its ring. She and Morgana stopped by a jewelry store after they left Gimbel's to get it sized.

"When do you get it back?" Arthur asks.

"Wednesday." She sits on the bed.

"Are you all right, Guinevere?" he asks quietly. "You seem… cranky."

"It was a long day," she sighs.

"I don't want to push, but you're sure this morning didn't bother you more than you're lettin' on?" He sits beside her.

"I don't know. Maybe. It was just kind of… jarring. Alice and I had a nice time, lookin' around at all the produce. The man at the meat counter was so nice. I was just goin' to get two whole chickens and cut 'em up myself, but he offered to do it for me. Just like that. Even asked if I wanted the gizzards and livers."

"Did you?"

"O' course I did," she grins at him. "I don't waste things, you know that. I thought it didn't bother me, but her voice just keeps floatin' back. 'So you and Gaius finally got yourselves a maid, huh?' Didn't even ask; just assumed."

Arthur pulls her into his arms, and moments later she finds herself in his lap. "You're allowed to be upset, darlin'," he says softly, kissing her forehead. "Even though you've dealt with worse. It doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt any less."

She leans against him, her head on his broad shoulder. She can feel his comforting warmth through the layers of flannel and terry cloth, and she wraps one arm around his torso. Unbidden, the image of him last Sunday morning with no shirt on flits through her brain, and she is glad that her face is tucked under his chin so he can't see her blushing. Again.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her close. "Guinevere," he says.

"Hmm?"

"Did I ever tell you how much I admire you? You're ten times braver and stronger than I could ever be, do you know that?"

"Now you're just bein' ridiculous," she says.

"No, I'm not. I… I'm so used to havin' the world at my fingertips, being able to do and say what I please, go where I will, that I forget how lucky I am to have that privilege. That not everyone is as fortunate as I am. If I had just one of the hardships life had dealt you – your mama dyin', your daddy dyin', the trial, hell, even just bein' colored and a woman besides – I'd probably just curl up in a ball and pull the covers over my head. I've learned so much about bein' a good person since I met you, and I mean that."

"Arthur…" she sighs, looking up at him.

"Just take the compliment, Guinevere," he says, mock-scowling at her now.

She ducks her head again. "Thank you," she says into his chest. "And your mama died, too Arthur," she reminds him.

"Yeah, but not while I was tryin' to put myself through college," he answers back. "Not that I _had_ to put myself through college."

"Neither did I, silly. Scholarship, remember?"

"Ah, but you had to keep your grades up to keep it," he counters.

She looks up at him and sighs. "Are we gonna sit here and nitpick or are you gonna kiss me goodnight?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to nibble your ear a little bit?" he teases.

"Ooo!" she huffs and tries to climb out of his lap, exasperated.

"Oh, no you don't," Arthur grins and holds tight.

"Arthur! You let me go!" she exclaims, trying not to be too loud, pushing his chest, trying not to laugh now.

"Nope," he says, swooping down with his head. He nuzzles his way in to kiss her neck while she squirms, giggling. Then he pokes her in the ribs and she squeals.

"Ooo, we _are_ ticklish," he declares triumphantly, going in for the kill.

"No!" she shrieks, laughing. "Ah! No fair! Arthur!" She is laughing, helpless under his assault, and manages to worm just far enough away for him to tackle her and catch her lips with his.

Gwen's laughter dies away almost immediately as she finds herself half underneath him, lying on the bed now as he kisses her passionately. She makes a little squeaking sound and her hand finds its way into his hair.

Arthur's hand drops on her waist, his fingers absently gripping the belt of her robe. Not pulling it free, just holding it, as if he is trying to keep his hand from wandering.

"Oh," she gasps when he finally releases her lips to feather some kisses down her neck and back up again.

"Whoa, I guess you are all right!" Morgana exclaims from the doorway.

_Getting awful tired of these interruptions,_ Arthur thinks, rolling away from Gwen. She sits up quickly.

"Sorry, I heard screaming," Morgana says, smirking at them.

"He was ticklin'."

"She was tryin' to get away," Arthur defends himself.

"I don't care," Morgana says. "Go to bed before Mom comes and yells at you," she says over her shoulder as she walks away.

xXx

_"Guinevere," his voice calls to me and I turn, the warm breeze blowing the lavender silk around my body, the material caressing my skin._

_ Barefoot and bare-chested, he holds his arms out to me and I find myself in his embrace, yet I swear I never took a step._

_ His hands are on my body, his lips on mine, and we are lying in the cool grass. He touches the silk of my gown and it vanishes. I touch him and feel the warmth of his skin. I can't see it, but I know he is naked as well._

_ Our limbs intertwine, our lips explore. It feels heavenly, it feels right._

_ "I love you, Guinevere," he whispers against my skin, his lips brushing against me like the wing of a butterfly._

_ What's that pounding noise?_

"Gwen?"

Gwen blinks her eyes open, looking around. Looking down. _I'm dressed. I'm alone. I'm inside._ "I'm awake, Aunt Alice, thank you," she calls.

_Church. We're going to church today,_ she remembers, flinging the covers back and getting out of bed.

_Why do I always have dreams like that on Sunday mornings?_ she puzzles. She's warm and flustered, desire still a new sensation.

_It ain't a sin to be havin' dreams about the man you are goin' to marry,_ she firmly decides, nodding her head once and opening her bedroom door.

And then Arthur comes shuffling past in his pajama bottoms and nothing else, beating her to the bathroom.

"I'll just be a minute, darlin'," he mumbles.

_Oh, Lord…_


	20. Chapter 20

"Are you nervous, Guinevere?" Arthur asks quietly. Gwen is seated between Arthur and Morgana in the back seat of Gaius' Cadillac, on the way to church.

"Yes," she answers simply.

He takes her hand in his. "It will be fine," he says. "It's church. People are supposed to be nice at church."

"Yes, they are," Gwen answers, "but some of the most closed-minded people are also some of the most righteous."

"Righteous in their own minds, anyway," Morgana adds. Gwen nods in agreement.

"Gwen, it'll be fine, I promise," Alice says. "Betty doesn't go to our church," she adds, smirking back at her.

Gwen laughs despite her worries, and Gaius pulls into the parking lot. It's a warm day for mid-October, one of those occasional oddities in autumn where a near 60-degree day pops in just to tease people before abruptly disappearing.

They step out of the car and head towards the building. Already Gwen is aware of peoples' eyes on her. Gaius did tell her that she would be the only colored person there, as she would have guessed. So she was at least forewarned.

Arthur can sense her nerves beside him. He takes her hand in his, gives it a reassuring squeeze, and leans down and whispers, "I love you," before they go inside.

"I wish I had my ring," she says quietly, knowing she would feel better with the hard evidence of their engagement on her hand.

Gaius and Alice lead the way, with Arthur and Gwen following and Morgana in the rear. _It feels like they're guarding us,_ Arthur realizes. They slide into a pew somewhere in the middle, Gwen between Arthur and Alice.

Soft organ music is playing and people chat quietly. Alice says hello to a few people; an usher stops to greet Gaius and shake his hand. They introduce "our nephew Arthur and his fiancée Gwen" to the people that stop. The people smile politely, but Gwen sees the surprise in their eyes. She smiles back, as friendly and warm as she can be.

"Where are you visiting from?" a woman seated in front of them turns and asks.

"Not visiting, ma'am. Moved, from Memphis," Arthur answers.

"Kathy, I told you that," Alice says, chuckling.

"Oh, that's right you did. How long have you been here now?"

"Just a week," Arthur says. "We arrived a week ago Saturday."

"And you're a lawyer as well?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what is it that you do, Gwen?" Kathy asks.

"I was a kindergarten teacher back home, ma'am. So at the moment I'm just helpin' Aunt Alice around the house, mainly."

"Oh, that's nice. Will you be looking for a teaching job at the term break?"

"Maybe. I don't know if my teachin' license is valid here, though. Gotta find out first."

"Well, good luck to you. And welcome."

"Thank you, ma'am," Arthur nods.

The organ starts the intro for the opening hymn and Kathy whips quickly around in her seat to face front. Ten seconds after the singing starts, she turns back again, looking at Gwen.

"You have got a beautiful voice, Gwen," she says just loud enough for her to hear, her eyes wide.

Gwen smiles. "Thank you," she says, noticing a few other heads looking with interest in her direction now, including Alice's.

"You didn't tell me you could sing," Alice leans over and whispers in her ear.

"You never asked," Gwen answers, and Alice laughs.

The service is pleasant enough. A little subdued compared to what Guinevere is accustomed to, but the pastor has a nice speaking voice and his message was interesting and, more importantly, relevant. Gwen thinks she sees him smile in her direction once, too.

_Of course Gaius and Alice would have told him about Arthur and me._

After, everyone files out past the pastor to shake his hand and exchange pleasantries.

"You must be Arthur and Guinevere," he says, holding his hand out. "Pastor Gary Meinhardt. Welcome, welcome." He is an older man, a little younger than Gaius. Arthur guesses him to be about Uther's age. He has sandy blonde hair tinged with grey and smiling blue eyes that crinkle around the edges.

"Hello," Arthur says, shaking his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Gwen also shakes his hand.

"I'm so glad you decided to join us this morning," he says. "Please stick around a bit, I'd like to talk to you some more," he says, noting the parishioners yet lined up behind them.

"We'll stay around, Pastor," Alice says.

They wait in a lobby area, and Kathy descends on them again, with what is presumably her husband in tow. "Gwen, this is my husband, Alan. He was playing the organ and directing the choir, that's why he wasn't sitting with me. You need to come sing for him."

_Boy, she's pushy,_ Gwen thinks. She glances at Alice. "Um, all right," she says.

"I'll come with you," Alice says. "You wait here," she tells Arthur, Gaius, and Morgana.

"No way, I'm coming, too!" Morgana protests and follows them into a room off the sanctuary where the choir warms up and puts their robes on. Some of them are still standing around and chatting.

"What would you like to sing?" Alan asks, sitting at the piano.

"Um, anything. What was that last hymn? _Precious Lord, Take My Hand_? That'll do, I guess," Gwen says, picking her fingernails nervously.

"All right," he says, flipping a hymnal open and starts playing.

Gwen sings. "Precious Lord, take my hand; lead me on, let me stand…"

Alice beams as all conversation ceases in the room. "Wow," Morgana whispers. "I had no idea."

"She's going to find herself in the choir by next week," Alice whispers back.

Gwen finishes, just one verse, and the people present applaud. "You're going to join the choir, right?" one woman asks.

Gwen looks at Alan, who is looking up at her hopefully. She glances back at Alice and Morgana.

"It's up to you, dear," Alice says.

"It'll give you something to do," Morgana suggests. "I know you're getting bored."

"Okay," Gwen says, giving in. Then she smiles a little. _Daddy would be proud. He always loved my singin'._

Alan looks at her, grinning now. "I suppose it's too much to hope for that you read music?"

"I can a little," Gwen says.

"I can help her with that, Alan," Alice says, as though it should be obvious.

"Well, it's not strictly necessary, but it helps. And with a voice like yours… Gwen, is it? It would be a shame for you to _not_ know how to read music."

They chat a bit more, and Gwen promises she'll attend rehearsal this week after he tells her when it is.

Alice, Morgana, and Gwen head back out and discover the pastor already chatting with Arthur and Gaius.

"…it shouldn't be a problem at all. We're not going anywhere that weekend, so I'd be available," Pastor Gary is saying.

"Thanks. Probably should double-check with Guinevere, though," Arthur says.

"Of course you should," Gary says. "Seems he already knows the ways of married life," he adds, looking at Gaius.

"Double-check what with me?" she asks, slipping her hand into Arthur's.

"Pastor Gary is willing and able to marry us on the 30th if we want to get married here," Arthur says.

"Um, yes, that would be nice, thank you," she says, squeezing his hand. _It's getting real now._

"We can get together a couple times before then to iron out the details," Gary says.

"It's going to be very small," Gwen says. "Just some family."

"Small and intimate is nice," he nods. He pauses a moment, thoughtful. "Can I be straight with you?"

"Please," Arthur says.

"It's probably a good thing that you're keeping it small. Gaius told me the reason for your move, and I commend your bravery, but I also know that you won't have the easiest road."

"Yes, we know that," Arthur says. "We are not harboring any illusions about our life together in that aspect."

"If you have a big, public wedding, it may invite trouble. That's all I'm saying," Gary finishes. As if on cue, a couple walks past the group, staring openly at Arthur and Gwen, doing a poor job of hiding their distaste.

"Just keep on walking, there, Ruth," Alice mutters, watching them. They finally stop staring and go on their way. "Thought so," Alice finishes.

"Mom, you are like a mother bear with them," Morgana observes, amused and a little proud.

"Yes. Things like that," Pastor Gary sighs. "Sometimes it takes a little longer for that whole 'love thy neighbor' rule to get through to some people," he adds.

Gwen purses her lips together, trying not to giggle.

"You can laugh, it's all right. 'A joyful heart is good medicine,'" he quotes.

Arthur smiles and wraps his arm around Gwen's shoulders now. "So, yeah. It'll likely be us five, plus Gwen's brother, my father, and our friend Merlin."

"Your father's coming?" Gwen asks.

"Well, yes. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Talked to him on Thursday. He's going to fly up on Saturday and home Sunday. I told him that he could ride with Merlin and Elyan…"

Gaius laughs loudly at this. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"I'm sure we can get Alan to play some music for you. Unless you were planning on it, Alice," Gary suggests.

"No, I'll be too busy weeping," Alice says, smiling. "Alan has just drafted Gwen into the choir, so I'm sure he'll be more than willing."

"Oh, you sing?" Gary asks.

Gwen nods.

"Happened to be sitting behind Kathy, and, well…" Alice holds her hands up helplessly.

"Right. All right, I need to find my wife and you all probably would like to go home."

"Yes, Gwen needs to get started on her fried chicken," Arthur says, excited.

"Sounds delicious," Gary says. "Well, then. Don't let me keep you. I do hope you'll find your happiness here." He shakes Arthur's hand, then Gwen's.

As they walk back out to the car, Arthur says, "See, that wasn't so bad."

"Mostly surprised looks," Gaius agrees.

"A few dark glances, but we don't pay attention to those people," Morgana says, a little haughtily.

"Morgana!" Gwen exclaims.

"What? If they're going to be ignorant, screw 'em."

"Language," Alice warns.

"Adult," Morgana shoots back, climbing into the car after Gwen.

"I didn't notice any dirty looks," Gaius says.

"There were about four, including the couple that walked through when we were talkin' to the reverend," Gwen says.

"Hmm," Gaius frowns. He starts the car and is about to shift it into gear, when he pauses, brightening. "Gwen, how much time do you need to make dinner?"

"A couple hours. Why?"

"It's such a beautiful day, I thought we'd take a ride past the lake. Have you seen it yet?"

"Not yet." She gives Arthur a sideways look that clearly says _you should have done that by now._ "I'd love that," Gwen says.

xXx

Arthur stalks Gwen while she putters in the kitchen. They've been home an hour, and already the kitchen smells amazing. Gwen loved the lake, even climbing on the large rocks along the shore where they stopped, trying to get closer to the water, going on about how _big_ it is and how it seems to go on forever. Arthur had to stop her from going out too far, claiming Alice was going to have a heart attack.

Really it was him that was having the heart attack. She looked so lovely in the sunlight, the breeze blowing her hair, blowing her skirt around her slender, shapely legs. He wished he had a camera.

Since they got home, he's been following her around like a puppy, making a general nuisance of himself until she finally banished him from the kitchen for getting in her way.

Now he peeks from the doorway, watching her, wearing jeans he didn't even realize she owned and a simple shirt, covered with an apron, humming to herself while she rinses greens. Beside her on a tray are all the chicken pieces, coated and ready to fry.

"Why are they all just sitting there?" he asks.

"I told you to go away," she says, not turning around. She goes to the oven and peeks at the cornbread, frowning at it.

"I'm not in the kitchen. See?" He points to his feet, showing her that he is definitely _not_ in the kitchen.

"Ain't your feet cold?"

"It's warm enough."

"You should at least have socks on," she sighs. "But they're your feet," she shrugs.

"So why is the chicken sitting there and not being fried?" he repeats his question.

"You have to let the coating set a bit or it'll just fall off," she finally looks at him, her hands on her hips.

"Oh."

"Now scoot. Go bother someone else," she scolds, but he can see her amusement at him behind the façade.

The phone rings just then, and they both stare at it a moment. It stops ringing and they hear Morgana answer.

Gwen turns back to her work, and Arthur wanders to the living room to see what's on TV. For now, anyway.

"Hello?" Morgana answers the phone.

"Um, hello, may I speak to Arthur please?"

Morgana pauses, confronted with an unfamiliar voice and an unfamiliar accent. _Definitely not Uncle Uther._ "May I ask who's calling, please?"

"Merlin," the voice says.

"Merlin?" she asks. "_Merlin_ Merlin? The mysterious Merlin that I thought Arthur was making up until Gwen confirmed your existence Merlin?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry; I've been teasing Arthur for months. He always promised he'd bring you with when he and his dad came to visit, and he never did, so I started accusing him of having an imaginary friend," she laughs.

"Ah, right, I see. Well, sorry to spoil your fun, but I'm real," he laughs. "If it's any consolation, he did invite me last time, but I couldn't go. Was going to, but then me mum got sick, so I stayed home to look after her."

"Aw, you're a good son," Morgana coos. "And I _love_ your accent."

"Thank you," he says.

"Oh! You wanted to talk to Arthur," she exclaims, remembering. "Hold on a second." She puts her hand over the receiver. "ARTHUR! YOUR IMAGINARY FRIEND'S ON THE PHONE!"

Merlin is laughing when she puts the handset back to her ear. "Nice," he comments.

"I have to give him shit, obviously."

"Obviously," Merlin agrees.

"Hello?" Arthur's voice interrupts them.

"Arthur!" Merlin greets him.

"Goodbye, Merlin, it was lovely talking to you," Morgana says smoothly.

"'Bye, Morgana. Nice talkin' to you, too."

"Hang up the phone, Morgana," Arthur says. He hears the _click_ of her hanging up. "Hey, Merlin! This is a surprise."

"Is she as pretty as she sounds?"

"No. So what's up?"

"What? Oh. Well, I heard some things from Elyan and since _you_ couldn't be buggered to call me yourself and ask me to come to the wedding, I thought I'd call you and hassle you about it."

"I was going to call you tomorrow at the office. Honest," Arthur says.

"Right," Merlin says.

"I was. Don't believe me if you don't want to, but I was. So are you coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he says. "Elyan and I are gonna leave really early Friday morning. Right now we're thinking three."

"Hmm. You know what? I'll ask Aunt Alice if we can have Thanksgiving dinner on Friday, then. Then you and Elyan can join us."

"That'd be great!" Merlin sounds excited.

_Of course he's excited. It's food._ "Yeah, it'll be a whole party. They have a piano; maybe you could play."

"They do?"

"Yeah, I never told you? My aunt teaches piano lessons."

"Maybe she'd jam with me."

"Right," Arthur says, skeptical. "Oh, guess what?"

"What?"

"Guinevere is making her fried chicken for dinner today."

"The fried chicken she claims is better than Gwaine's?"

"The very same. I have never been more excited about a meal."

"Well, I hope it lives up to expectations, mate," Merlin says.

"You're just jealous."

"Maybe. Oh! I got Vivian to talk to Percy on Friday," Merlin says, sounding rather proud of himself.

"How did you orchestrate that?"

"I got Leon involved. Honestly, I feel like a girl. But Percy came to the office to meet with Leon, and I had Leon make him wait in the lobby a bit. Then I came through on my way out to pick something up for your da, and I said hello to Percy and asked him how things were going at the factory. Made sure Viv was payin' attention and made sure to mention things about taking over the business and askin' him how it felt to be a big shot. Just enough to get her attention."

"Merlin, that's not exactly…"

"No, no, wait," Merlin cuts him off. "Percy was great, though. Completely, well, how he is. Like it's all no big deal. He even said that money doesn't buy happiness. Can you believe that? By the time we were done chattin', Vivian was lookin' at him the way she used to look at you, and believe me, mate, there were not any dollar signs in her eyes."

"You little matchmaker," Arthur teases.

"Shut it! I already told you that I felt like a girl! Don't make it worse. Anyway, Leon told me that when he saw Percy out, Vivian stopped him specifically to tell him to have a nice weekend and that she liked his tie. Then Percy smiled at her and according to Leon, he could have scooped her out of her chair with a spoon."

"Sounds like a good start. Oh. One thing: When you and Elyan drive up on Friday, you _have_ to stop in a town called Mattoon, Illinois, and go to Althea's Soul Food Kitchen for lunch. Tell her you're friends of ours."

"Honestly, Arthur, you two made friends on the way up to Milwaukee?"

"Yes. She's a hoot. And she's gonna _love_ you," Arthur grins at the image of Miss Thea cooing and fussing over sweet, skinny Merlin. _She's gonna keep feedin' him till he pops._

xXx

Dinner is finally ready, and Arthur is the first one to the table. Fried chicken, greens, sweet potato casserole, and cornbread. Gwen even made sweet tea. Morgana immediately decides that it's the best thing ever.

"Okay, we've said grace. Pass me that platter," Arthur declares, holding his hand out. Gwen passes it over, laughing, but deep down she's very worried about whether he'll like it.

_I may have talked it up too much,_ she thinks, taking some greens and putting them on Morgana's plate after she passed it over without taking any.

"Hey!" she protests.

"Just try it. For me?" Gwen asks.

"She's evil. Does she do that to you, too?"

Arthur can't answer because he already has his mouth full of chicken and he's moaning as though in ecstasy. "Oh, my God, Guinevere… I could die a happy man right now…" _Almost,_ he mentally adds, knowing there is only one more thing he requires for a blissful demise.

"That good, huh?" Gaius asks, spooning some sweet potatoes on his plate. Then he digs in. "Okay, yes. It is," he declares.

"Oh, to answer your question, Morgana, yes. Obviously Guinevere can get me to do her every bidding," he says, his mouth full.

Gwen rolls her eyes. "He says that like I make demands," she sighs, trying the cornbread. "Hmm. Closer."

"Closer to what?" Alice asks.

"My mama's cornbread. It's gettin' there. Miss Thea's was better," she says, setting it down and taking a delicate bite of chicken.

"Miss Thea's cornbread _was_ very good," Arthur agrees. "Yours is also very good, Guinevere."

"Which means that Miss Thea's is better," Gwen smirks.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. And it's all right; I agree."

"Better than I could make," Arthur adds.

"Yeah, that's going to make her feel better," Morgana laughs. "I've seen you attempt to cook."

"Shh," Arthur shushes her.

"What do you think of the greens, Morgana?" Alice asks.

"I haven't tried them yet," she admits, poking them with her fork.

"They're really good. Not bitter or mushy at all," Arthur says. "I have had some bad greens in my day. These ain't some."

"Nice grammar," Gaius remarks.

Morgana tries a bit. "Okay, they're not terrible," she admits. "The bacon helps."

"Oh, if I'd known that the way to get you to eat vegetables was to slather them with bacon…" Alice laughs.

"Anyone want to try some gizzard or liver?" Gwen asks, figuring the answer will be no. At least from Morgana.

"I'm game," Gaius says. Gwen passes him the platter and he takes one of each. "Surprisingly good," he nods.

"Thank you," Gwen says.

"It's all very good, Gwen," Alice says. "You'll have to teach me so I can make all this when you've gone."

"You say that like I'm goin' far away," Gwen chuckles. "But of course I'll teach you. That's the best part of cookin'. Sharin' secrets."

They eat quietly for a bit. Arthur consumes at least half an entire chicken on his own. He keeps licking and sucking at his fingers, and Gwen keeps getting distracted by this.

"Gwen, can I ask you something?" Morgana breaks the silence, snapping Gwen out of her study of Arthur's long fingers.

"Um, sure," she says.

"Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but are any of your ancestors white?"

"Morgana…" Alice groans.

"It's all right," Gwen says. "I know she don't mean it in a nasty way."

"I'm just wondering because you're, well, light brown."

Gwen chuckles. "Well, colored folks come in all shades, you know, just like white folks aren't actually _white_ like this napkin is white. Well, _you're_ pretty white," she says, prodding Morgana in the shoulder, laughing.

Morgana laughs at this as well, even though her schoolmates used to call her "ghost girl" because she was always so pale.

"There may be a white person or two in my heritage, I honestly don't know. No one really kept track, unfortunately. I know it happened, where a slave owner would take advantage of his female slaves. Similar things still happen in the south. My brother says he sees evidence of it a lot when he's on jobs. Rich Mister feelin' on his pretty little colored maids."

"That's awful," Alice says.

"Elyan didn't like me for a while because of that. He didn't trust me," Arthur says, licking another finger. "Oh! I never behaved inappropriately towards Guinevere, just so we're clear. I was only her lawyer during that time, honest. He and I came to an understanding before I whisked her away up here, honest."

"So you're fine now? You and Elyan?" Gaius asks.

"Oh, yeah. I even officially asked for permission and everything. Then we got drunk."

"Ah, the great equalizer," Gaius nods. He takes more sweet potatoes. "These are like dessert."

"Oh! Alice, can I make sweet potato pie for Thanksgiving?" Gwen practically jumps out of her seat.

"Of course," Alice laughs. "I was actually going to ask if there was anything you wanted to contribute to Thanksgiving dinner."

"Oh, yes, please, I have a few things I'd love to make for y'all."

"Excellent. We'll talk later, then," Alice smiles.

"Hey, that reminds me. Can we have Thanksgiving dinner on Friday instead of Thursday? Elyan and Merlin are comin' up Friday and I thought it might be nice if we could wait for them," Arthur says.

_Stop sucking on your fingers,_ Gwen thinks. _Or don't…_

"I don't see why that would be a problem. Besides, the Packers are playing the Lions on Thanksgiving day anyway, so Gaius will be able to devote his full attention to the game," Alice says, smirking at her husband.

"I cannot eat any more," Morgana says, setting her fork on her plate.

"Me either. Stuffed. It was excellent, Gwen. Do feel free to cook any time," Gaius says.

"Thank you," Gwen says, blushing from their praise.

"No, Gwen, I'll clean up. You did all the cooking, you go put your feet up," Alice says.

"I can't let you do that," Gwen says, stubbornly following her into the kitchen.

Arthur and Gaius disappear, as men tend to do in these situations, and Morgana actually joins them in the kitchen.

"I've missed having a girlfriend to talk to," Gwen comments, drying dishes with Morgana while Alice washes.

"You didn't have a girlfriend in Memphis?" Morgana asks.

"Well, I did. She moved away a year ago. And of course I talked to the other teachers at school some, but I didn't really ever spend time with them socially."

"Why did she move?"

"She got married, and her husband got a job in Texas," Gwen says. She stares at the plate in her hands. "We write, sometimes. Send birthday cards. Christmas cards. She's got a baby girl already."

"Well, I am honored to be your friend, Gwen," Morgana says, looping her arm around Gwen's shoulder and clunking her head softly against Gwen's.

"Aunt Alice, are you crying?" Gwen asks.

"No," Alice sniffs.

"Liar," Morgana laughs.

xXx

"Hey," Arthur pokes his head in Gwen's bedroom door.

"Hey, yourself," she says back, setting her nightgown aside. She was just about to change. Arthur slips in and closes the door quietly behind him.

"Arthur, what are you doin'?" Gwen asks when he sits down on the bed with her.

"Just sittin'. Surely I'm allowed to sit to say goodnight to my fiancée."

"You closed the door."

"I know," he scoots closer, reaching up and stroking her cheek with his thumb. She opens her mouth to warn him off again and his lips are on hers before she can get the words out, his hand sliding to hold the back of her neck as he kisses her deeply, longingly, his tongue sliding against hers.

She whimpers in the back of her throat as she feels him moving closer, and before she realizes it, they are lying on the bed, his other hand is holding her waist, and her hands are around his neck.

Gwen gives up and surrenders to his kiss, bravely running her fingers into his hair. His hand slides along her waist, moving slightly higher, and his thumb brushes the underside of her breast.

"Arthur!" she gasps, pulling away.

"Sorry…" he croaks. _Damn._

"It's… it's okay," she says. "I was just… surprised." She tucks a stray curl behind her ear and tries to sit up. He doesn't let her.

"Stay," he says, turning and pulling her so she is nestled against his side, her head on his shoulder.

"Arthur, you shouldn't be here like this."

"I'm just visiting. Saying goodnight. And if we happen to drift off to sleep…"

"Arthur," she says, her voice serious. "Your aunt and uncle are kind enough to let us stay here. We shouldn't disrespect them by defying the one rule they gave us."

"You're right, as always. Sorry. I won't accidentally fall asleep, then." _Definitely going to look for an apartment. Or something._

"Um… you can kiss me some more, if you wa– mm!"

Arthur's lips are back on hers before she finishes her sentence, leaning over her, his one arm pinned beneath her, holding her softly.

She moans softly and squirms a little beneath him, freeing her arm to cling to his shoulders, her soft wet tongue growing bolder. Arthur slides one hand up towards his target, trying again, his fingers itching for the soft flesh of which they just got the barest taste.

This time she lets him, even arching slightly into his hand as his palm closes over her breast, fingers flexing, thumb stroking.

He releases her lips and trails kisses down her jaw to the side of her neck.

"Arthur…" she sighs. His lips are warm and wet on her skin, and she feels like the bed is slowly spinning.

"Oh…" she gasps. Arthur shifts slightly, and his stiffening manhood presses into her thigh. The feeling snaps her back to earth, and she knows they have to stop before they go too far.

"Arthur, we have to stop," she says.

"Mmm-hmm," he agrees, kissing up her neck to nip her earlobe lightly.

"_Arthur._"

He lifts his head. He removes his hand. "Right. Got carried away."

"I did a little, too," she says, sitting up now. This time he lets her.

"I should go," he says. "Good night, my love."

"Good night, Arthur. I love you."

"Love you, too," he says. He leans over and gives her one last chaste kiss before he stands and goes to the door. "This was fun, though," he says, grinning wickedly.

"Yes, it was," she agrees softly, blushing dark pink.

Arthur hurries back to the den, hoping that he doesn't run into anyone in his current state. His fingers twitch, remembering the feel of her perfectly shaped, perfectly sized breast, remembering how she arched into his hand, remembering how she felt beneath him, even fully clothed.

_We still have just over a month. I need to find a place for us to live. I know she won't live there with me until we get married. I'll ask, but I know she'll say no._

He changes clothes and climbs into the increasingly-less-comfortable hide-a-bed. He heaves a frustrated sigh and ponders the tent in front of him.

Closing his eyes, he allows his hand to creep beneath the covers, thinking of Guinevere out in the sun on the lake, lying beside – and beneath – him on the bed just now, thinking of her gorgeous light brown skin tinged pink when she blushes, even thinking of her standing over a pan of chicken, frying noisily. His beautiful Guinevere.


	21. Chapter 21

A week or so and several frustrating make-out sessions later, Arthur comes home from work and tells Gwen that he's found an apartment for them.

"You did? Why so soon?" Gwen asks. "And I thought we were gonna buy a house…"

"Well, I want to be able to have a place for us right away once we're married," he says, wrapping his arms around her. "And we'll still get a house. This will just buy us some time to do it right. To be able to really look and find the perfect one." He lifts her chin and kisses her lips softly. "I do not want to be livin' here once we are married," he says softly, against her lips.

Gwen does not miss the implications in his voice. She blushes and looks down, hiding her face in his shoulder while he chuckles at her.

"I'm stayin' here. Just so we're clear," she says a moment later. "I won't be livin' in sin with you, no matter how much you promise me that you can wait."

"I figured that, darlin'," he says. "But I do have a problem that I need your help with."

"What's that?" she asks, leaning back slightly to look up at him.

"Well, I left all my furniture back in Memphis," he shrugs. "So I need someone to go shoppin' for me. Someone with excellent taste and unlimited funds." He grins at her. "I need a sofa, and a recliner, maybe, and," he pauses, kissing her nose, "and a kitchen table, a… coffee table, maybe a toaster," he kisses her cheek, "and a nice," he kisses her jaw, "big," he kisses her neck, just beneath her ear, "bed." He kisses her lips now, slowly savoring them. His tongue creeps forward and she opens her mouth for him, kissing him back.

"Ack! No making out in the foyer! God, you two…" Morgana is yelling as soon as she's through the door.

Arthur and Gwen have passed the point of jumping guiltily apart. Especially when it's just Morgana. They just stop what they're doing. Gwen giggles a little.

"But, since you're right here, I _must_ tell you before I forget again. I'm hosting my annual Halloween party at Turner Hall on the 26th. You both _have_ to come," she says.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to mention it," Arthur says, mock-accusingly.

"I've been busy. Shut up," Morgana snaps back at him. "So find costumes. Good ones."

"What are you dressing as?" Gwen asks.

"I am going as the Wicked Witch of the West and if you say _one word,_ Arthur Pendragon, I'll—"

"Turn me into a toad?" Arthur asks, cutting her off.

"Yes," Morgana sneers and marches off, leaving Gwen giggling some more.

"Where were we?" Arthur asks, ready to dive back in.

"Arthur," Gwen puts her hand on his chest. He pouts. "Okay, I'll _help_ you find furniture. But I don't want to do it all by myself. These are going to be _our_ things, so I'd like you to participate."

"All right," he says, smiling. _She's right. As usual._

"Also, I'm thinkin' I might look for a job."

"You don't need to work, Guinevere, you know that," he says softly, running a finger down her cheek.

"I'm gettin' kind of bored. I thought I'd look to see if any of the elementary schools need an aide. Even if it's just part-time. Until I sort out my teachin' license situation, o' course."

"If working will make you happy, then I certainly won't say no."

"I'd still do it even if you did say no," Gwen answers. Then she kisses him and wanders back to the kitchen to help Alice with dinner.

_I know, and I love you for it,_ Arthur thinks, watching her walk away, a stupid grin on his face.

xXx

"Superman and Lois Lane," Arthur declares the next day. He plops down on the couch with Gwen, interrupting her conversation with Morgana.

"Um, Batman and Robin?" Morgana replies, lost.

"No, for Halloween. I can be Superman and Guinevere can be Lois Lane. It's perfect," he says, grinning at her.

His grin drops when she bites her lower lip uncomfortably.

"It's not perfect?" he asks.

"Well… the idea is," Gwen says, "But… no. I don't think we should do it."

"Why not?" Arthur asks.

_Do I really have to spell it out for him?_

"Lois Lane isn't black, Arthur," Morgana says quietly.

"Superman ain't blonde, either, so what?"

"We can color your hair, Arthur. We can't lighten my skin," Gwen says.

"It's just a Halloween party. We're not makin' a movie," Arthur says, trying not to sound exasperated. Morgana shoots him a look that clearly says _Wrong answer, Loverboy._

"I realize that, but… no. I can't do it," she says, standing up.

"Guinevere, you're making too big a deal of this," he calls as she walks off to her room.

"Well, go after her, dummy," Morgana says.

He jumps up and follows, knocking on the closed door. "Guinevere?"

"What?" Her voice is muffled.

"Can I come in?"

"Door ain't locked." Arthur opens the door and walks in, closing it behind him. She's lying face-down on the bed, holding her pillow. He sits down next to her. He reaches his hand out to rub her back, but withdraws it.

"I guess I don't understand," he says.

"We'll go to that party and people will keep askin' me who I'm supposed to be. I'll tell them, and while they probably won't say it, they'll be thinkin' it."

"Say what?"

She rolls over and looks at him. Her eyes are just a little damp. "Lois Lane is white. They'll be thinkin' it, and I'll know they'll be thinkin' it. They'll be thinkin' I'm… uppity. Or worse, that I'm pretendin' to be white, tryin' to deny who I am. I won't do that."

"Wasn't it you that said that you can't let the stupidity of others affect your happiness?"

"Don't you use my own words against me, Arthur!" she says, sitting up. "I know I said that, but… it doesn't mean it's always easy to do," she admits.

"I guess I still don't understand. I don't understand why you're troublin' yourself about what other people are thinkin'."

"I don't know that you _can_ understand."

"I want to, though. Make me understand. Please." He reaches over and takes her hand.

"It's easy for you to not worry about what other people think. You're white, and you're a man besides. You don't have to answer to nobody. 'Cept the police, but that's not generally even a problem for you, either," she says, looking at their joined hands. "I know their opinions don't matter. Or they shouldn't. But I also don't want to stir up unnecessary trouble. I am a colored woman, Arthur. I'm essentially powerless in society. Things may change one day, but right now, if I go to this party dressed like Lois Lane, I could be poking a stick in a hornet's nest. I know this ain't the south, but we definitely know that there are people that think that way here, too." She sighs. "What it boils down to is I know folks'll be thinkin' it, and that will make me feel foolish."

Arthur ponders this. "I don't want you feelin' foolish," he says softly, stroking her knuckles. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it.

"You can still be Superman, but I ain't gonna be Lois Lane."

"I don't want to be Superman if you won't be my Lois Lane."

"I'll always be your Lois Lane, Superman. Just not at this Halloween party," she says, kissing his hand in return.

xXx

In the end they abandon the idea of wearing coordinating costumes. There was just nothing they could agree on.

Guinevere, wearing an evening gown of Morgana's, complete with long satin gloves, goes as Eartha Kitt. She even carries a microphone with her as a prop.

Arthur, clad in jeans, a white t-shirt, a motorcycle jacket that Gaius produced from the attic (while vehemently refusing to answer any questions about its origin), and his hair combed into a messy pompadour, is James Dean.

Arthur slouches his way into the foyer, unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. Gwen can't contain her gasp at his appearance.

"You don't like it?" he asks, straightening up.

She steps very close to him and places her hands on his chest. "I _love_ it. You look really… sexy," she says quietly, blushing down to her toes.

Arthur's eyebrows shoot up, quite surprised. "Mmm, my lady approves," he purrs at her, pulling her into his arms.

"Except this," she says, snatching the cigarette out of his mouth. "I don't like this."

"It's just for looks," he says, taking it back. "And you look pretty sexy yourself there, Ms. Kitt."

"Thank you. But I can't do the voice," she says, pouting.

"I don't think anyone will care. Don't you have a wrap or anything?" he asks, looking down at her bare shoulders and the rare treat of her cleavage.

"Morgana says it'll be warm enough inside," Gwen says.

"That's not what I'm worried about," he says, dropping his eyes pointedly.

She laughs. "Too much skin for you to take, Mr. Dean?"

"Not for _me,_" he mumbles, a bit petulantly.

"Pictures!" Morgana declares, sweeping into the foyer. She is a vision in black, her face and hands covered in green makeup, her long black hair hanging down her back beneath a pointy hat.

Alice and Gaius are right behind her, camera in Gaius' hands.

Too many shots are taken, and then Arthur slides behind the wheel of Gwen's car.

"Are you sure that we want James Dean to be our chauffer?" Morgana asks, taking off her hat and climbing in the back seat.

"Morgana, that's in poor taste," Gwen says, but she's laughing.

"This ain't a Porsche, Morgana, it's an Impala. Even you could tell the difference," Arthur says, pulling the car out of the driveway.

Morgana shows up late to her own party. It's already in full swing when they arrive, and she sweeps in and soaks up the praise for the party and her costume like a professional.

Arthur just rolls his eyes. He recognizes some people. A lot of lawyers, and he realizes that she can write this off as a business expense because of it. _Shrewd._

They check Gwen's coat. "If you get cold, let me know and I'll give you my jacket," Arthur says, trying not to be too obvious.

"Nice try," Gwen says. She leans up and kisses him. "Stop being jealous of imaginary men."

They mingle. Arthur introduces Gwen to a few people from the office. Alvarr is dressed as The Tin Man, per Morgana's request. He looks very uncomfortable. Cenred refused to play and is dressed like Count Dracula. He was supposed to be the Scarecrow.

"Why didn't Gaius and Alice come?" Gwen asks Arthur.

"Didn't want to. They say they're too old for these kinds of shenanigans. I say they just want the house to themselves, because Morgana says they never come."

"Why doesn't Morgana get her own place? She's such an independent woman."

"Not sure. I think she likes the company, actually. She's never been much on being alone. Are you thirsty?"

"Yes, actually," Gwen says.

"I'll go get us something," he says, kissing her quickly. "Be right back."

Gwen is left alone. She sees Morgana fussing over Alvarr the Tin Man across the room.

"Why, Miss Eartha Kitt, as I live and breathe," an unfamiliar voice greets her, and she turns.

"You're the first person who's gotten it right," Gwen says, turning. She is greeted by a tall colored man dressed all in black, wearing a black mask, a black hat, and a cape. He has a fencing sword at his hip. "Zorro?" she asks.

"Sí, señorita," he says, smiling. "Isaac," he holds his hand out.

"Gwen," she introduces herself and shakes his hand.

"Are you new in town, Gwen? I don't believe I've seen you at one of Morgana's little parties before."

"Yes, we just moved up here from Memphis a few weeks ago," she says.

"Well, that explains the charming southern drawl," he says. "We?"

"My—"

"Champagne, darlin'," Arthur swoops in just then, having hurried back to her side when he saw the interested looks that Zorro was giving his fiancée. He kisses her cheek and places his arm around her waist.

"Ah, perfect timing. I was just about to say, 'my fiancé and I moved up here,'" she smiles at Isaac.

"Ah. Fiancé," Isaac says, not hiding his disappointment very well.

"Arthur, this is Isaac…" Gwen leaves it hanging, not knowing the man's last name.

"Isaac Helios," he finishes for her, extending his hand.

Arthur releases Gwen's waist to shake his hand. "Arthur Pendragon. I've been trying to reach you by phone for weeks, incidentally."

"Hmm. Yes. You have," Isaac admits guiltily, looking away for a moment. "Sorry."

"Do I even want to know?" Arthur asks, angling his head.

"Well, I _have_ been quite busy…"

"Exactly the reason you and I should talk," Arthur says. "I think we could help each other out."

"Well, to be honest, I'm not so sure about that. Some of the people that come to me for help may not want a rich white man as a lawyer for their civil rights complaints."

"Since we're being honest, I'm surprised that people come to you for help at all if you can't even be bothered to return a phone call."

"Arthur!" Gwen exclaims.

"I'm sorry, but that's just basic courtesy. If you don't want to work something out, fine, but at least extend me the professional courtesy of taking my call."

_He has a point._ Gwen shrugs and looks up at Helios. _Well?_

"Damn, man, she's got a glare," Isaac eventually says, chuckling a little nervously. He holds up his hand, surrendering. "All right. I have no excuse other than arrogance for not calling you back. I just don't understand why you're even interested in specializing in civil rights."

Gwen glances up at Arthur, smiling a little proudly at him. He nods just slightly, as if he's saying _go ahead._ "Because he believes what we believe. Well, what I believe. I don't know you well enough to know what _you_ believe, but he wants fairness and equality for everyone, regardless of color. He believes in the words of people like Dr. King and W.E.B. Du Bois; believes that people shouldn't be automatically classified as 'lesser' because their skin is darker. He wants to help. Yes, he's a rich white man, but he wants to use that advantage to help the cause, Mr. Helios."

Isaac stares at her. He turns to Arthur. "She a lawyer?"

"No," Arthur laughs, "but she could be."

"Why do people keep askin' me that?" Gwen wonders aloud.

"Because, my love, you have a definite way with words," Arthur says, kissing her forehead.

"That comes from havin' to explain things to five-year-olds," she says, laughing now. "I teach kindergarten," she tells Isaac. "Or I did in Memphis. Right now I'm doin' nothin'."

"You do plenty," Arthur says.

"I don't doubt that. And your beautiful and persuasive fiancée has convinced me, Pendragon. I will call you Monday and we'll set up a meeting."

Arthur narrows his eyes and looks at him skeptically.

"I promise," Isaac says, making an X over his heart. "That one has got those eyes like my mama used to give me when I was acting up. I'm not crossing her," he laughs.

"Thank you, Mr. Helios," Gwen says, smiling now.

"Well, if you don't call me, I'm going to have Guinevere call you," Arthur threatens.

"Fair enough," he laughs.

They chat a bit longer, more relaxed now, and Gwen excuses herself to the ladies' room. She walks away and Isaac spots someone else he needs to see, leaving Arthur on his own.

He sits at a table, taking a few peanuts from the bowl on the table. He watches Morgana, still belle of the ball, even as a witch. He chuckles at her.

_Always liked to be the center of attention,_ he thinks, smiling.

"Well, this is a coincidence," a female voice purrs behind him. "James Dean, meet Marilyn Monroe," Arthur turns to see a blonde woman dressed as Marilyn Monroe from _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,_ in a pink satin gown and diamonds, holding her hand out, palm-down, like she expects it to be kissed. He shakes it.

"Oh, now, is that any way to greet a fellow dead celebrity?" she admonishes, tutting at him.

"Hello, Morgause," Arthur says politely. She sits beside him at the table.

"Arthur, I'm so happy to see you," she says. "I heard you were in town. Is it true that it's a permanent move?"

He nods. "Are you still in Chicago?" he asks.

"Yes, but I always make sure to make the drive up for Morgana's Halloween party. Wouldn't miss it. And you should come to Chicago for a visit some time. It's _so_ much more sophisticated than Milwaukee."

"Maybe my fiancée and I will take a drive down next summer, when the weather is nice again. Of course, by that time she'll be my wife," he says pointedly.

"Oh, yes, that's right. I did hear that you were engaged, and to a colored girl, no less," she says. Her tone turns a bit icy. Disdainful.

Arthur looks towards the restrooms. Gwen has just appeared, but Morgana has kidnapped her, hooking her arm through Gwen's and pulling her along to meet people.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arthur asks. _Now I remember why I never liked Morgause. She's a bitch._

"Well, I'm just wondering why you feel the need to play house with one of _them,_" she says. "Weren't there any nice white girls in Memphis?"

"Plenty. None of them interested me," Arthur says.

"And she does?" she asks, nodding in Gwen's direction.

"You know nothin' about her," he snaps. "And I don't like what you seem to be implying."

"What, that she's just a novelty that you're going to grow bored with? Trust me, I could keep you _very_ interested," she says, touching his hand.

"I highly doubt that," he says, pulling his hand away. "My relationship with Guinevere is none of your damn business, Morgause."

"She's not right for you," she pouts.

"Are you drunk? You barely know me, and you don't know her at all."

"So? She's colored. That's not right."

"No, what's 'not right' is your way of thinking," Arthur says, standing.

"Fine, Arthur, go marry the dirty little secret you had to run away from home to be with. Don't expect me to be waiting for you when you realize that she was just a passing fancy."

"The only thing stopping me from punching you right now is the fact that you at least _appear_ to be a woman," Arthur says, his fists in tight balls at his sides. "Say what you will about me, I don't care, call me anything you want. But insult my future wife again and I _may_ choose to forget you are female."

Arthur stalks away, looking for Gwen. He doesn't notice Isaac Helios standing nearby, mouth hanging open, having heard their entire conversation.

"I'd like to go home," Arthur says, approaching Gwen and Morgana.

"What's wrong, Baby? You look like you're ready to kill someone," Gwen says, placing her hand on his cheek.

"Morgana, if you expect me to come to any of your parties ever again, do not invite Morgause," Arthur says.

"Who is Morgause?" Gwen asks.

"A friend from college," Morgana says.

"A racist bitch," Arthur adds.

"What?" both women chorus.

"I'm too mad right now to talk about it," he says. "Morgana, if you want to know what happened and what her opinion is of my engagement to Guinevere, go ask _her._ Otherwise you'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"I just might do that," Morgana says, narrowing her eyes.

"Which one is she?" Gwen asks. "So I can avoid her. Or "accidentally" spill something on her. I haven't decided which."

"Marilyn," Arthur points. Morgause is at the bar.

"I'm going over," Morgana says, straightening up and smoothing her dress. "If you want to go home, go ahead. I'll get a ride from Alvarr. I'm sorry, Arthur." She hugs her cousin, then hugs Gwen before striding purposefully towards Morgause.

Arthur and Gwen head out and collect Gwen's coat. "Are you all right to drive?"

"Yes. I only had the one champagne," Arthur says.

"I meant are you too angry."

"I'm okay. I just want to go home and hold you for a while."

"Sounds good to me," Gwen says. She takes his hand and squeezes it. "Tell me what happened when you're ready."

"Thank you, Guinevere. I love you," Arthur says.

xXx

"May I help you?" the receptionist asks Arthur when he walks through the doors of Helios' offices. She reminds Arthur a little of Latoya, tall and elegant.

"Arthur Pendragon to see Mr. Helios," Arthur says, smiling pleasantly.

"I'll tell him," she says, picking up a phone. Arthur looks around the lobby. It's a small affair, clean. A large potted plant resides in a corner.

"Arthur," Isaac comes out and greets him personally. "I told you I'd call," he grins broadly.

"Only because you've got the fear o' Guinevere in you," Arthur laughs, shaking his hand. He follows Isaac back and into his office.

"So. You say we can help each other," he says, leaning back in his chair. "I am intrigued."

"Well, you are _the_ name in civil rights law in this area," Arthur says, deciding to open with a little light flattery. "I'm looking to make my name in civil rights law."

"So far I don't see how I benefit," Isaac interjects.

"I'm gettin' there. You're overloaded. I'm lookin' for clients. I propose you pass me your overflow, and I'll give you back 25% of my fees."

Isaac leans forward in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. "50%," he counters.

"Like hell," Arthur laughs.

"Had to try," Isaac's face breaks.

"30," Arthur says.

"40."

"35."

"35 it is," Isaac says finally, reaching his hand forward. Just when Arthur is about to shake it, he pulls it away. "First tell me why."

"Why what? Why does a rich white boy want to help poor colored folks?"

"Yes."

"Let me tell you the story of Guinevere and me," Arthur says, settling back in his chair.

"Are we going to need coffee for this?"

"I'd love some," Arthur says.

He picks up the phone. "How do you take it?" he asks.

"Black," Arthur deadpans. Isaac laughs, then summons coffee to his office.

"I met Guinevere after a public viewing of Dr. King's speech back in August," Arthur starts.

"That's not that long ago," Isaac says, surprised.

"When you know, you know. We've been through quite a lot since then," Arthur says. "Anyway, I literally knocked her on her ass…"

He goes on to tell the whole tale. Helios is fascinated. Angry. Shocked. But in the end, he is smiling.

"So I realized that I really liked helping them. All of them, not just Guinevere, who by then I'd completely fallen for her like a pair o' pants with no belt. But Duncan is now the warehouse manager and Ezra was able to get help to deal with his guilt over killing Tom. And they all have a better place to work. It felt… good. I want to keep doing that."

"How is the factory doing now? Have you heard?"

"I spoke to Leon just last week. Percy has settled in nicely, made a lot of necessary changes, and things look very good. It's now officially Andersen Paper, too."

"One big victory and he's ready to take on the world," Isaac says, smirking. "Sometimes that's all it takes."

"So we have a deal, then?" Arthur says.

"Well, since you're willing to part with 35% of your winnings, how can I say no?" he says, extending his hand again. This time he allows Arthur to shake it.

"Take care of Gwen, Arthur," Helios says standing. "I could tell immediately that there is something special about her. Don't ever forget that and don't let her forget it, either."

"My mission in life is to make her happy, Isaac, I guarantee," Arthur says, also standing. He pauses a moment. "You were pretty disappointed to learn she was spoken for, weren't you?" he asks, smirking at Isaac.

"Very," he admits, chuckling. "But you don't have anything to worry about, man."

"I know," Arthur says confidently.

As they walk back to the lobby, Isaac says, "By the way, I happened to overhear your conversation with that Marilyn Monroe, um, witch, at the party."

"You did?" Arthur asks. He's still angry about it. Telling Gwen helped, especially when he collected his reward for standing up for her, but he still sees red when he thinks about it.

"Yes. You're all right."

"Thanks."

"I 'accidentally' tripped her later on, too," Isaac admits. "She didn't know it was me, but it still felt good. She didn't injure herself or anything; I'm not a mean person. Just a little… mischievous." They enter the lobby and stand, finishing their conversation.

Arthur laughs. "That must have been before Morgana had her thrown out," he says.

"It was while she was on her way out _after_ Morgana threw her out," Isaac says, laughing. "I trust your cousin laid into her but good, right?"

"Lord, you would have thought that the flying monkeys were gonna come and carry Morgause away," Arthur says. "At least that's the way Morgana tells it."

"She does have a flair for the dramatic, doesn't she? I guess that's why she's so good at what she does."

"Yeah, she's a little scary sometimes," Arthur chuckles.

"All right, I'll let you get back to it. I'll have some more files for you later this week. I'll send them over by courier."

"Thanks for these," Arthur says, holding up the three folders Isaac has already given them.

"Call them tomorrow, though. I have to let them know that you're taking over. Explain the situation, you know."

"Of course," Arthur says. "Thanks again."

xXx

"I need a car," Arthur says over dinner.

"What's wrong with the Impala?" Morgana asks.

"That's Guinevere's car. I'm moving this weekend. If I have my own place, I need my own car. I can't take hers."

"I'd manage fine," Gwen says.

"No, that's not fair to you. After supper we'll go and look."

"We?"

"Well, certainly I want your opinion, darlin'."

"Yeah, Gwen, you need to make sure he doesn't buy something stupid, like another Corvette," Morgana teases.

"There was nothing wrong with my Corvette," Arthur says.

"Apart from the fact that you can only fit two people in it and it would be essentially undriveable here for three solid months?" Morgana asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Okay, there was nothing wrong with it in Memphis. When I was single…" he trails off, realizing he's losing the argument.

"Men never truly grow up, dear," Alice tells Gwen. "Their toys only get bigger and more expensive."

"Why don't you go tomorrow?" Gaius suggests. "It's getting late, so take the afternoon tomorrow."

"I have to call the three clients from Helios, but I should be able to do that in the morning," Arthur says. "Guinevere, do you have any plans?"

"You know I don't," she answers, rolling her eyes.

The next afternoon they head out in the Impala, cruising dealerships. Arthur looks forlornly at the Corvettes and Mustangs and other muscle cars, but he knows that's just not practical any more. Especially if they want to have a family. Which he does.

_I could still get one, just for fun, in the summer. Maybe a convertible,_ he thinks, pulling into a lot.

Arthur tries to convince Gwen to get a new car as well, trade in the old Impala for something newer.

"It's five years old, Guinevere, time for an upgrade," he says.

"I'm not ready to give it up yet," she says. She glances at the salesman, who is watching them expectantly. Gwen can see the dollar signs floating in front of his eyes. "It was my daddy's car, and…"

"I know," he says softly. "All right. Just the Deville, then, Frank," Arthur says, turning back to the salesman.

"The red one, sir?"

"Of course," Arthur grins. Gwen shakes her head and looks at the ceiling.

They drop off Gwen's car at the house and then Arthur takes her out to dinner and a drive along the lake.

"Are you takin' me out on a date, Arthur?" Gwen teases, watching the waves crash against the rocks, her head on Arthur's shoulder. It's a cloudy, windy day, and the lake is gray and rough.

"Yeah, I guess this is a date," he says. "We've never actually been on one, have we?"

"Not in the traditional sense, no. O' course, nothin' about our courtship has been very traditional."

"Wouldn't change it, though," Arthur says, kissing her forehead. "It's getting darker earlier," he says, frowning.

"That does tend to happen this time o' year, Baby."

"Let's go home," he says, shifting the car into drive.

He parks in the driveway and turns to Gwen, a sly look on his face.

"What are you thinkin'?" she asks.

"I'm thinkin' we need to try out the back seat."

Gwen giggles and they both get out and move to the back seat, where Arthur pounces. Gwen is ready for him, though, clutching his jacket as he eases her back onto the seat, kissing her deeply.

Arthur unzips her coat and slides a hand inside against her warm body. She hums contentedly, running her fingers through his hair, his tongue battling with hers within their mouths.

"It's very roomy back here," she gasps as Arthur places sucking kisses on her neck, working his way down. She notices him unbuttoning a couple buttons on her blouse, but pretends not to notice. _Let him think he's gettin' away with somethin'._

"Mmm," he replies, and Gwen giggles again. _He's busy._ Arthur kisses his way lower, to her collar bones, worming his way into her shirt, his hand now over her breast as well.

"Mmm yourself," she whispers. Then she gasps slightly when he kisses the top of her breast, above the line of her bra.

"This okay?" he asks distractedly. Gathering her courage, Gwen answers by sliding her hand down his back and grabbing his backside.

"Guinevere!" he exclaims, his head shooting up. He stares down at her, his face an array of emotions ranging from shocked to amused to aroused.

"That okay?" she asks. She hasn't moved her hand.

"Oh, Lord…" he drops his head and kisses her hungrily.

"What on earth are they doing out there?" Alice asks. "He pulled in ten minutes ago…"

"Mother, are you dim?" Morgana asks, laughing.

"What? Oh. Oh!" Alice exclaims, closing the curtains hastily.

"They're just making out, Mom. Nothing… improper," Morgana says, still laughing. "Gwen told me Arthur promised to wait."

"Good," Alice says, eyeing the curtains suspiciously.


	22. Chapter 22

Arthur studies the names on the mailboxes in his new apartment building. _It reads like an eastern European phone book,_ he thinks, noting many of the names end in _ski_ or _vich_ or have more consonants than would seem necessary. He places the sticker that says _Pendragon_ on his – their – mailbox, between _Peplinski_ and _Dobschuetz._

"It looks very British there," he mumbles.

"What was that, Baby?" Gwen asks, taking his hand. Uther, Alice, and Morgana had just left. Arthur promised he would bring Gwen back to the house later, and that they would behave themselves.

"Just noting the names on the mailboxes and how mine seems to stick out a bit," he says.

"How so?" Gwen asks, pressing the elevator button.

"It's not Polish or German."

"And?"

"Just an observation. It's just interesting to me how like-minded people tend to congregate. I mean, surely _everyone_ who has moved to this country from Poland didn't settle in Milwaukee."

Gwen laughs. "People go where they've got kin, Arthur. If your uncle wasn't here, would you have chosen this city?"

The elevator doors ping and open.

"I don't know. Probably not," he shrugs, following her into the elevator. "You're far too intelligent, you know that?"

"I thought that was one of the things you loved about me," she says, crossing her arms in front of her. Challenging.

"One of the many things, my love," he says, wrapping his arms around her. He feels her arms uncross between them and hug his waist. He sighs. "I can't wait to carry you through that doorway," he says, kissing her hair.

"Just a few more weeks, Baby."

They step out of the elevator and go the short distance down the corridor to what is currently Arthur's apartment and what will be their apartment in four weeks.

As they reach the door, a middle-aged couple emerges from the door across the hall.

"Hello," Arthur greets them. Gwen follows suit.

"Oh, hello," the man says. "You must be the new people," he says.

"Well, right now it's just me. Arthur Pendragon," he introduces himself, extending his hand. "This is my fiancée, Guinevere."

"I'll be movin' in after we're married," Gwen says, shaking the man's hand as well.

"Harry Peplinski," the man says. "This is my wife, Evelyn."

"Hello," Evelyn says. "Call me Evie."

"I generally go by Gwen," Gwen says, smiling at the woman. _They seem very nice,_ she thinks.

"Welcome," Harry says. "We'd chat longer, but we have dinner reservations, I'm afraid," he says.

"Don't let us keep you, then," Arthur says. "Nice meeting you."

"Pendragon," Harry pauses a minute and says. "You related to the lawyer Pendragon?"

"My uncle, yes. I joined his firm when we moved up here," Arthur says, magically producing a card and handing it to him.

"Oh, um, thanks," Harry says, looking briefly at it before passing it to his wife. She tucks it into her purse.

"Arthur," Gwen says, sighing at him. "Enjoy your dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Peplinski," she says, pulling Arthur's elbow.

"Thank you, Gwen," Evie says, smiling knowingly at them.

"Where did you pull that card from?" Gwen asks Arthur as he opens the door.

"I always have some on me, didn't you know that?"

"Well, no, I don't go rootin' through your pockets," she chuckles, looking around the still rather empty apartment.

"Maybe you should sometime. You might be surprised," he says suggestively, pulling her into his arms.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, giggling.

"For example, if you go rootin' around now, you might find…" he takes her hand and slides it into his left hip pocket.

"Arthur, what—" she starts, not sure if she should be putting her hands in his pants pockets. Then her fingers find something flat and metal. She nabs it between two of her fingers and withdraws it. "A key?"

"The other key to this apartment. For you."

"I don't need a key yet, Arthur."

"Why not?" he asks, angling his head at her.

"Because I don't live here."

"But I do, and what's mine is yours. And you will be living here soon enough. And I want you to have that key, all right?"

"Well, since you feel so strongly about it," she says, taking the key over and putting it in her coat pocket.

"I do," he says. He's pouting a little.

"What's that face?" Gwen asks.

"That's my I-can't-believe-I-had-to-convince-you-to-take-that -key face," he says.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I was just surprised. What with you shovin' my hand in your pocket and all." She leans up and kisses him, her arms looped around his neck.

"Mmm." Arthur wraps his arms around her, holding her close.

She pulls back before he starts getting ideas. _Maybe later._ "It's so empty in here," she says.

"That's all right. I really didn't give you much time to find furniture for me," he says.

"And you were _supposed_ to be helpin' me," she chides, putting her hands on her hips.

She's gotten him a bed so he'd at least have a place to sleep, but so far she hasn't found anything else she likes. Even so, it's just a mattress and box spring on a frame.

"I know, I'm sorry," he says, sitting on one of the two chairs in the living room. Chairs borrowed from Gaius and Alice's basement. "Next weekend we'll go. Everyone keeps tellin' me that we should drive down to Racine to this place called Porter's. They're supposed to have some real nice things."

"How far is that?" Gwen asks. She's about to sit in the other chair, but Arthur pulls her into his lap.

"Not far. It's just the next city to the south. We'll go next Saturday, okay?"

"Okay," Gwen says. "Hopefully the weather will be nice."

"Are you hungry? Alice stocked me up here," he says.

"A bit, yes."

xXx

After dinner Arthur manages to convince Gwen that they should relax for a bit in the bedroom, claiming that they'd have more room to stretch out on the bed and it would be more comfortable than the chairs in the living room.

"Don't think for a minute I don't see right through you, Arthur Pendragon," Gwen says, laughing, as he pulls her into the bedroom.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about one small detail we seem to be forgetting," he says, lying down on the bed and patting the mattress beside him.

"We really should be unpackin' these boxes," Gwen says.

"Tomorrow," he waves his hand dismissively.

"So what have we been forgettin'?" Gwen asks, curling against Arthur's side.

"Honeymoon," Arthur says, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

"Oh! You're right!" Gwen exclaims. "Been so busy movin' and gettin' settled and movin' again that I didn't even think about that."

"It's a bit late to plan somethin' right away, but maybe in a few months," Arthur suggests. "Go someplace warm in, oh, March, right when we're gettin' good and sick o' the cold weather…" he muses, stroking Gwen's arm lightly with his fingertips.

"Someplace warm?" Gwen says, sounding interested.

"Or wherever you like. Is there someplace you've always wanted to go?"

"There are a lot of places I've always wanted to go," she says.

"Well, then, we'll hit them all. We have years ahead of us," he says.

Gwen looks up at him. _He is amazingly sweet sometimes._ She kisses him softly, smiling at him.

"What was that for?" he asks quietly.

"For you being so wonderful," she says. He kisses her nose.

"So where?" he asks.

"Hawaii?" she asks, biting her lower lip.

"Excellent," Arthur says, smiling broadly. "Just what I was hoping for."

"Really?"

He nods excitedly. "I've always wanted to go there, too."

"You haven't been there, then?"

"No."

"I haven't been anywhere," Gwen says with a sigh.

"We'll take care of that."

"Should I make a list?" she asks, teasing.

"Yes," he answers, seriously. He looks down at her and traces her jaw with his finger, lifting her chin.

"You're serious," she says softly.

"I am," he says, swooping down to kiss her now. "I want to give you anything you wish for, Guinevere," he whispers between kisses. "All you have to do is ask and I'll move heaven and earth to make it happen."

"You're the only thing I want, Arthur," she answers, stroking his cheek as she returns his kisses.

"You can have that, too," he murmurs, moving over her, his hand sliding on her waist. Her lips part beneath his, meeting his probing tongue with her own.

Gwen runs her fingers through his hair, holding his head lightly with one hand while her other splays on his back.

"Oh," she breathes when he breaks the kiss, moving to her ear, nibbling lightly. She turns her head to give him better access, sighing contentedly.

"I know what you're doin' there, Arthur," she says, smiling as his lips skim down her neck.

"What am I doin'?" he asks.

"Thinkin' you're distractin' me so I don't notice you're unbuttonin' my blouse."

He lifts his head and grins guiltily at her. "You know all you have to do is say stop and I will," he says, kissing her lips once.

"Do you hear me sayin' stop?"

Arthur groans and returns his lips to her neck, amazed that he's got her blouse almost all the way open without protest.

_Is it possible that she's getting as anxious as I am?_ he wonders. _Is that even possible, though?_

He kisses down her neck to her collarbone, tracing it with his tongue as he boldly slips his hand inside her shirt, against the taut skin of her stomach.

"Mmm," Gwen says, squirming beneath him a bit. Arthur kisses her breasts around her bra, marveling in the softness of her skin beneath his lips and hand.

"So soft," he mutters, moving his hand up to cup her breast, pushing it slightly upward into his lips, stroking over the material of her bra.

_I wonder if she'd let me slip my hand in… no, I'd better not._

Gwen's hands slide down his back and she grabs his rear again, squeezing once before sliding back up.

"You can touch more if you want," Arthur says, flexing his hips almost unconsciously against her. He kisses up to her lips again.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she answers, kissing him back.

His eyes drop down, roaming over her torso, at the flawless skin beneath her shirt. "Probably not," he groans. "And I think we'd better button you up before I lose my mind."

"You don't think I'm… easy, do you? You know, for lettin' you go this far before we're married?" Gwen asks as she buttons her blouse, sitting up.

"What? Of course not," Arthur says, shifting slightly uncomfortably on the bed, his jeans pinching uncomfortably now. "We're going to be married in less than a month, Guinevere. It's not like we just met and this is our first date. We're not doin' anything wrong or scandalous at all."

"Me neither," she admits, grinning. "The only… romantic advice my mama gave me was 'keep your knees together 'til you're married.'"

"But she didn't say anything about unbuttoning a blouse?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

Gwen shakes her head now, trying not to smile. _I wonder if I should tell him that I have been intentionally wearing button-down blouses instead of sweaters or something that goes over my head._

"What are you blushin' at over there?" he asks, puzzling at her.

"Nothing. Just thinkin' about you."

He gives her a sideways look, but lets it go.

xXx

Tuesday morning, Gwen has an interview at Bryant Elementary School. She sits and waits while the principal looks over her résumé and application. He's youngish for a principal, a little heavyset, with kind eyes.

"You've moved here from Memphis, I see," he says, setting the papers down.

"Yes, sir. I taught kindergarten at Lincoln Elementary, as it says there."

"May I ask why you moved to Milwaukee?" he asks, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Well, sir, as you are no doubt aware, the south is still draggin' its feet when it comes to issues like integration and civil rights."

He nods. She continues.

"My fiancé and I moved up here because we would not be allowed to get married in Tennessee," she states bluntly. She had decided on the way over that if asked, she would be straightforward.

"Oh?" the principal asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir. My fiancé is white," she says, holding his gaze.

He blinks a few times. "That's very brave of you," he finally says.

"I know. Brave or foolish, sometimes I don't know which." She smiles then.

"You regret moving?"

"Not for one minute."

"Then it's not foolish. Will you be getting your teaching certification in this state?"

"I plan on it, yes," she nods. "In the meantime, I'm fine being an aide or helping out in any capacity. I probably can't be a substitute, though."

"Sadly, no. The aide position I have available is only part time," he says.

"I have no problem with that."

"Oh, okay. What does your fiancé do?" he asks.

_He's nosy._ "He's a lawyer."

"Interesting," he says. "When is the wedding?"

"The 30th," she says.

"Over Thanksgiving?"

"My brother will be able to come up then," she says. _Not that it's your business._

"I see. And will you be taking a honeymoon?"

"Not until spring, sir."

He seems to notice her puzzling over his questions. "I'm sorry, Miss Thompson, I'm just trying to get a feel for who you are, and you're playing things very close to the vest. Forgive the personal questions. But I'm also trying to figure out if your scheduled activities will conflict with the school's needs."

_Does that mean he's going to hire me?_ "Oh. Sorry, sir. As you can imagine, I've been through a lot this month, so my guard might be up a little."

"Yes, I imagine you have," he says. "Well, I would like to offer you the job, so you can relax."

_That's certainly unusual. Maybe it's different because it's just an aide position._ "Oh! Um, thank you, sir," Gwen says.

"Anthony," he says, holding his hand out. "Welcome to Bryant, Miss Thompson."

"Gwen," she says, shaking his hand.

He looks at her a minute. "It might interest you to know that there is already a movement underway to integrate the schools in Milwaukee. Perhaps you might be interested in getting involved," he says.

"Yes, I'd like that very much. My fiancé specializes in civil rights law, in fact, and I'm sure he'd be willing to help out in any way he can, too."

"That would be nice," he nods. He tries not to let the surprise show on his face, but doesn't quite achieve it.

"He's been working with Isaac Helios to get established in that particular specialty," Gwen explains. "He officially works at Pendragon Law, but Mr. Helios is helping him out."

"Pendragon is a prestigious firm," Anthony says. "Is he a Pendragon?"

"Yes, actually. His father runs the Memphis office and his uncle is in charge of the Milwaukee office."

"Oh, I didn't know there were two," he says.

"Neither did I, before," Gwen chuckles.

xXx

The week before the wedding, President Kennedy is shot. The country is in shock. Things shut down. People stay home with their families, glued to the television, hoping for updates, clinging to the hope that he might have survived.

But people rarely recover from a gunshot wound to the head. Even presidents.

Arthur holds Guinevere in his arms on the couch at Gaius' house. They closed the office and came home. Gwen was already home with Alice.

They don't have words. The president was so young. He filled everyone with so much hope. He supported integration and civil rights, speaking out and acting out against racial intolerance.

"He stopped Governor Wallace when he tried to prevent those little colored girls from goin' to school," Gwen says softly.

"We can only pray that Johnson continues forward with his proposed civil rights legislation," Arthur says, reaching down to gently wipe the silent tears that are falling down her cheeks. "If it gets lost in the confusion and uproar caused by his death, that would be a real injustice to both his memory and people everywhere."

xXx

"Here! Turn here!" Merlin exclaims, pointing frantically with one hand, waving a sheet of paper with the other.

Elyan slams on the brakes of his trucks and cranks the wheel. "I hope the directions Arthur gave you are right. I'm mighty hungry."

"Well, you can stop the truck; we're here."

Elyan pulls to the side, parking along the curb. He and Merlin climb down from the cabin of his truck and stretch their stiff bodies.

"Next time I'm flyin'," Merlin says.

"Come on, man, I need to take a leak," Elyan says, slapping Merlin's shoulder lightly.

The two men enter Althea's Soul Food Kitchen. Several heads regard Merlin with interest. He's used to this, and just nods affably at them. They return to their coffee.

"Hello, boys, you lookin' for somethin' to eat? Goodness, you look like you could use a meal, baby." Althea comes striding out to greet them, clucking at the thin Merlin.

"Yes, can we just sit anywhere?" Elyan asks.

"Anywhere includin' my lap, sugar," Althea winks at him. He chuckles and the two of them find a table.

Thea brings them menus. "If you want somethin' you don't see on the menu, you just let Miss Thea know. Can I get you somethin' to drink?"

"Ooo, sweet tea," Elyan says, surprised to see it on the menu.

"Just water for me, please, ma'am," Merlin says.

"Excuse me," Elyan says, standing and going to the restroom.

"Where you from, sugar?" Thea asks, putting her hands on her hips.

"Ireland, originally. But most recently, Memphis."

Thea cocks her head at him. "Memphis, you say?"

Merlin nods, grinning a little.

"I'm gonna go get your drinks, and when I come back you better tell me why y'all are the second group o' people I seen come through here from Memphis in a month's time," she says, waving a finger at him.

"I will," Merlin calls after her. He didn't want to tell her who they were without Elyan there.

"Better," Elyan says. "Don't you need to go?"

"In a minute. Miss Thea is on to us, I think," he chuckles.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing! She just asked where we were from and I told her."

A moment later, Althea returns, drinks in hand. "Now. Miss Thea needs her gossip."

"Well, Miss Thea, my name is Elyan, and I'm supposed to tell you that I'm Guinevere's brother," Elyan says, offering his hand.

"Guinevere… pretty little light-skinned thing with a gorgeous blonde white boy fallin' all over her?" Thea asks. Elyan laughs and nods.

"That would be my best mate Arthur," Merlin chimes in. "I'm Merlin, by the way. So you remember them?"

"How could I forget them?" Thea pulls up a chair now. "Y'all joinin' them up north?"

"Naw, we just goin' up for the weddin'," Elyan says. "I gotta give my big sister away since we got no other kin, you know."

"Ooo, child, you don't know how happy that makes me. I been prayin' for them since they left here," she says. "Oh, Lord, I'm sorry, what can I bring you to eat?"

Elyan glances at Merlin, who smirks.

"Bring us whatever you think we should have, Miss Thea," Elyan says.

"Baby, you don't know what you just said," she says, chuckling. She takes their menus and strides back to the kitchen.

"She's a character," Merlin says.

"Gwen warned me that she was," Elyan says.

"What time will we get there, do you think?" Merlin asks.

"Probably 'round three, if we don't stop too much more. Gwen promised that we'd get Thanksgiving dinner when we got there, too."

"Yeah, mate, you've mentioned that about six times now," Merlin laughs. "I'll be back." He stands and heads to the restroom.

Merlin returns a few minutes later and Thea emerges from the kitchen shortly after that.

"Now, it's a little early for lunch, but you boys look like you need some chicken and dumplings." She sets two plates in front of them, heaped with food.

"I love you," Merlin says, leaning in to smell the delicious aromas wafting from his plate.

"Sugar, spend a week with me and you won't be runnin' 'round lookin' like no refugee no more. Now you eat that all up," she commands.

Elyan laughs. "You never seen Merlin eat, Miss Thea. His mama can cook; he's just skinny."

"And I guarantee you I'll clean this plate and maybe even be askin' for more," Merlin says, grinning at her.

"We'll see about that," Althea says, walking away to let them eat in peace, even though she has a million questions she'd like to ask them.

"This is so good," Merlin says.

"I know. Makes me miss Gwen's cooking. She told me she's makin' some things for Thanksgiving."

"Mmm, like what?" Merlin asks, mouth full.

"What did she tell me… greens, cornbread… oh, fried okra…"

"Yum," Merlin says.

"You like fried okra?"

"Love it. Anything else?"

"Sweet potato pie."

"Between this meal and that one, I'll be able to die happy," Merlin says.

"Naw, man you gotta get yourself a lady first," Elyan says.

"Why is it that Toya couldn't come again?" Merlin asks.

"Her mama didn't want her spendin' all that time alone with us. She don't trust me yet, and she don't know you. Thinks we'd be up to no good."

"Ah, yes, the unscrupulous boyfriend and his suspicious white friend," Merlin nods.

"Man, there ain't nothin' suspicious about you," Elyan laughs. "But unfortunately Toya's mama don't know that." He sighs and takes a drink. "I ain't even slept with her," Elyan admits.

"Good for you, mate," Merlin says. "Maybe Arthur and Gwen will have to come back to Memphis for your wedding soon, hey?"

Elyan shrugs. "Maybe. I ain't decided yet."

"Yes, you have," Merlin says, chuckling now.

"How is everything?" Thea asks, arriving surprisingly quietly. She has a glass pitcher in each hand and refills their drinks.

"Brilliant," Merlin says. "_So_ good."

Elyan nods, his mouth full.

Thea smiles and leaves them again to tend some other customers.

Merlin finishes his meal and asks for dessert.

Thea laughs loudly, delighted.

"I warned you," he says.

"All right, sugar, I got just the thing for you. How about you?" she asks Elyan.

"No, ma'am, I am sho'nuff full," he says, leaning back in his chair.

Thea returns with some peach cobbler for Merlin, warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. She sits with them again.

"Have you heard from them much?" she asks.

"I talk to Gwen every Sunday," Elyan says. "She said they had a few trials, but she's happy there. They're stayin' with Arthur's aunt and uncle, and she says they's good people."

"Well, Arthur's got an apartment, but Gwen's staying with the aunt and uncle till after the wedding. She's become good friends with Arthur's cousin Morgana, too," Merlin chimes in. "This is amazin', Miss Thea," he says.

"I can tell by the way you're wolfin' it down," Thea laughs. "They got jobs?"

"Arthur's a lawyer, so he had one before they even got there. His uncle has a law firm," Merlin says.

"Well that's handy," Thea says.

"His daddy has one down in Memphis," Elyan adds. "So he just went from the Memphis Pendragon Law to the Milwaukee Pendragon Law."

"They're all lawyers," Merlin says, "even Morgana."

"Ain't his daddy goin' to the weddin'?" Thea asks.

"Yeah, he's flyin' out tomorrow. Didn't want to drive with us," Merlin says.

"I don't blame him. I'd fly, too, if I was rich like him," Elyan adds.

Thea laughs. "What about Gwen? She got a job?"

"She just started workin' as an aide in a school. She's a teacher, but she's gotta get… somethin'…"

"Certification," Merlin says.

"Yeah. Certification to teach in Wisconsin before she can be a teacher again. Not that she needs to work. Arthur's got loads o' cash."

"Well, maybe she wants to keep busy. Idle hands, you know," Thea says. "But they're happy?"

"Yes," Merlin says, and Elyan nods. "They seem to be very happy."

"Good enough for Miss Thea," she nods and stands to clear their plates. "I best let y'all get on the road. They'll be waitin' for you."

"We got Thanksgiving dinner waitin' for us, too," Merlin says. "They waited so we could join them."

"That's awful thoughtful of them. You boys didn't have dinner yesterday?"

"Oh, no, we did. We just get another one," Elyan grins. "I was at my girl's house and Merlin was at… where was you?"

"Uther's house, actually. Mum cooks for him every year."

"Somethin' goin' on between your mama and Arthur's daddy?" Elyan asks, standing.

"No. God, no. Mum would kill him inside of a week," Merlin laughs. "Uther is all alone and she takes pity on him. It was the three of us plus Geoffrey and Leon."

"A bunch of lonely men and your mama," Elyan laughs.

"No, Leon has a lady now, I forgot. He brought her along. Mithian, I think was her name. Nice girl."

Merlin and Elyan pay their bills and Thea gives them a bag with something heavy in it.

"What's this?" Elyan asks.

"Cornbread for Arthur and Guinevere," she says. "Couple loaves. My gift to them, so don't you go eatin' it," she warns.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Merlin says, but he doesn't sound very convincing because he's got his face in the bag and is inhaling with a dreamy look on his face.

"Merlin, sugar, you keep your nose outta that bag!" Thea warns. Merlin lifts his face, grinning guiltily. "Now come here and give Miss Thea a hug."

She hugs each of them warmly. "Now, you boys make sure you stop by Miss Thea's on your way home and I'll have somethin' nice for you."

"We're drivin' back on Sunday," Elyan says. "According to your sign, you ain't open on Sundays."

"I said I'd have somethin' nice for you and I meant it," she says.

"All right, then we'll stop on our way home," Merlin says. He knows not to trifle with a woman when she uses that tone.

"That's right," Thea nods.


	23. Chapter 23

"Gwen, does your brother drive a blue Ford pickup?" Gaius asks, strolling casually into the kitchen.

Gwen drops her spoon and runs to the door.

"Apparently so," Gaius chuckles, following with Alice, watching with amusement at Gwen bolts out the front door and jumps on her brother the instant he's out of the truck.

Elyan hugs her, laughing, as she clings to his neck, her feet off the ground.

"I missed you, too," he says, setting her down.

"Sorry," she apologizes, laughing and crying at once.

"Elyan," Arthur greets his future brother-in-law, extending his hand. Elyan shakes it warmly.

"Charlie," he greets him. Arthur laughs.

"Why does he call Arthur Charlie?" Morgana asks Gaius.

"I don't know," Gaius whispers back.

"Merlin," Arthur greets his friend, smiling. "Never thought I'd be happy to see your face," he teases.

"Shut it," Merlin says. Then he and Arthur hug tightly for a very brief moment. Then Arthur punches him on the shoulder.

"Arthur," Gwen rolls her eyes. "Hi, Merlin," she says, hugging him and kissing his cheek hello.

"Come on, we'll do introductions inside. It's cold out here," Gwen says, suddenly feeling the chill. The clouds are dark and thick and low.

"Here, this is from Miss Thea," Merlin hands her the bag.

"You went!" Gwen exclaims, peeking into the bag.

"Of course we went. She's brilliant," Merlin says, smiling fondly.

"What did she send?" Arthur asks, eyes alight.

"Smell," Gwen holds the bag over.

"Ohhhh…" Arthur groans.

"What is it?" Morgana asks.

They go inside. "Cornbread," Arthur says, saying the word like it is a sacred thing.

"That good, huh?" she asks.

"You have no idea."

"Uncle Gaius, Aunt Alice, Morgana, this is my brother Elyan and our friend Merlin," Gwen says, pressing on, ignoring Arthur and his cornbread.

"Hello," Elyan says. "Thank you for waitin' for us for dinner."

"No trouble at all," Alice says. "And speaking of, Gwen, we'd better get back to the kitchen."

"It's almost ready. Arthur, give me that," Gwen says, taking the bag from Arthur.

"Hey…"

"You can have some with dinner."

"It's nice to see she hasn't changed," Elyan says, chuckling as Gwen marches away.

"Not at all," Arthur says, smiling after her.

"Merlin, that's an unusual name," Gaius says. "Come sit," he invites them into the living room.

"It's a family name, sir," Merlin says, following.

"I like it," Morgana says, smiling at him. Then she turns to her father and says, "You say that as if 'Gaius' is a _normal_ name, Dad."

Gaius laughs.

"Thank you," Merlin says. _She's very pretty. She sounded pretty on the phone,_ he thinks, trying not to stare.

"You don't cook, Morgana?"

"Not really. I help once in a while, but I'm not very interested, honestly," she answers, laughing.

"She can make grilled cheese sandwiches," Arthur points out.

"Yeah," Morgana says, nodding. "And I can scramble eggs, too."

"You'd never survive in the south," Elyan chuckles.

"He's right," Merlin agrees, laughing with Arthur.

"So you're from Ireland, is that right?" Gaius asks Merlin.

"Yes, sir," Merlin nods. "Me mum and I moved here five years ago."

"Are you happy with the move?"

"Yes, sir. I'm a musician, you see, so America is the place to be for that."

"Yes, Arthur mentioned you were a jazz pianist."

"He's really good," Arthur says.

"Thanks, mate. I understand Miss Alice teaches piano. And that is a beautiful instrument," he says glancing over at it. Again.

"Perhaps you could favor us with a tune after dinner," Morgana says hopefully. "I'd love to hear you play."

"I'd love to play for you," Merlin answers.

Elyan looks at Arthur, a bit surprised. _Is Merlin flirting with your cousin?_ Arthur looks just as shocked as Elyan.

"Gwen says you're a carpenter, Elyan?" Gaius says.

"Excuse me, I need to…" Merlin says, standing.

"I'll show you," Morgana leaps up. She grabs Merlin's hand and pulls him from the living room.

Gaius peers after them, suspicious. Arthur tries not to laugh.

"Yes… I'm a carpenter, sir," Elyan says slowly, almost as puzzled as Gaius. He shakes his head a moment, as if to clear it. "Independent contractor. I can fix anything and build almost anything," he says proudly.

"Very impressive. What are you working on right now?"

"Well, I got a job buildin' a deck on a local surgeon's home. It's comin' along nicely, even though his missus keeps changin' her fool mind about what she want."

"Women will do that," Gaius nods, chuckling.

"And I'm workin' on fixin' up my own house when I got time."

"Yes, Gwen told us that you were able to pay for your parents' home with the settlement money."

"I'm turnin' it into a single-family home. Gwen put the bug in my ear. I want it to be nice for Toya and me so we can have room to raise a family."

"Elyan, you old softie," Merlin teases. "I didn't know you were gonna propose."

"Was thinkin' about doin' it over Christmas," he says, a little sheepish.

"Don't do that," Morgana says.

"What?" Elyan lifts his head suddenly.

"Sorry, I don't know you and I don't know her, but I am a woman. If you give her a ring for Christmas, that's a cop-out. If you want to give her a ring _at_ Christmas, fine, but make sure you have another gift, too. You don't want to kill two birds with one stone in this case, even if that stone is a diamond."

Merlin twitches the smile away from his lips. _She's really smart and she's not afraid to say what's on her mind. I bet she's an amazing lawyer. I bet she and Gwen together are quite a pair, too._

"Really?" That's all Elyan can manage. He looks at Gaius. _Help me out, here._

"I'm afraid I'd listen to Morgana, Elyan. She is a divorce lawyer, you know."

"Oh, shit… oh! Sorry!"

Morgana is laughing hard now. "It's all right, hon. Look: get her a nice necklace or something for Christmas and then propose on New Year's Eve. That's _much_ more romantic. Do it right at midnight, if you can."

"Who's proposin'? Elyan, you proposin' to Latoya?" Gwen asks, coming into the living room with Alice.

"I think so," Elyan admits.

Gwen smacks his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ow! Sorry!"

"You better get Mama's ring cleaned before you give it to her," she says, looking at him sideways.

"What makes you think I'm goin' to give her Mama's ring?"

"Because I know you. Dinner is ready. Go wash up."

xXx

"This food ain't from that market with that racist checker, is it?" Elyan asks, starting right in after Gaius has said grace, thanking the Lord for family and the food and that their guests have arrived safely and for the wedding the next day.

"Of course it is," Gwen says, rolling her eyes.

"You shouldn't be givin' them your business."

"Elyan, you're thinkin' about this all wrong," Gwen says, setting her fork down. "Yes, Alice and I still go there. I go there alone, too. With my head held high. And if that woman is workin', I go and stand in her line, just so she has to wait on me."

Arthur smiles to himself. Morgana stifles a snicker, unaccustomed to seeing Gwen interact with her brother.

"It's not about not givin' your business to a place that happens to have an employee who ain't got a brain, El. It's about lettin' them know that they're not gonna keep you down. Now eat your damn food."

Elyan picks up his fork, then pauses. "You got any hot sauce?" he asks.

Gwen sighs. "Be right back." She heads out of the dining room to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bottle. "They didn't have any o' this in the house until Arthur and I came along," she chuckles. "Somehow I think I'll be takin' it with me to our apartment," she laughs.

"Pass that over," Merlin says. "No offense, Miss Alice, it's all _really_ good. But the hot sauce is just somethin' we southerners do."

"'We southerners?' Merlin, have you gone native?" Arthur laughs.

"Finally gave in and tried it one some of Gwaine's chicken. Aaron dared me. Now I'm hooked, and Mum thinks I've gone barmy."

"That means crazy," Arthur translates.

"Yes, thank you for translating English into English, Arthur, we wouldn't have known otherwise," Morgana says sarcastically. "Oh my God, this cornbread is amazing."

"Ain't it, though?" Gwen says. "I don't know what she does, but it doesn't crumble apart or anything. Gotta find out her secret."

"Woman on a mission," Arthur says.

"Who is Gwaine again?" Gaius asks.

"Tavern owner down in Memphis. You'd love him, Morgana, he's a complete… Guinevere, what is he?"

"He's the best kind of scoundrel," she says, laughing. "No regard for rules, flirts with anything in a skirt, but he's really a good guy. Cooks like a good old southern granny, too. And he don't segregate, so it was the only place we could meet up to discuss the trial outside of Arthur's office."

"Meet up to 'discuss the trial,' right," Merlin teases.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says.

"Gwen, pass me that fried stuff," Morgana says.

"The okra?" she asks, passing it over.

"Yes. I cannot get enough of it," she says, scooping some on her plate.

"One of my favorites, too," Merlin says. "Pass it over."

"What else did you make, Gwen?" Elyan asks. "The okra and greens I'm guessin', and the sweet potatoes…"  
"Dessert," Gwen says.

Elyan grins. "Sweet potato pie?"

Gwen nods. "Pecan, too."

"I am _so_ glad y'all waited for us," he says.

xXx

After dinner, they all help clean up. Morgana doesn't even complain.

_Probably because she's too busy shamelessly flirting with Merlin,_ Arthur thinks, watching how his cousin always seems to be near him, laughing a little too loudly at his lame jokes, and touching him whenever she can. He meets Gwen's eyes and she shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

"So, Merlin, you promised you'd play for us," Morgana says, taking his arm as they head back to the living room.

"Actually, Morgana, Merlin and I have a surprise for Arthur," Gwen says. "A little wedding present for the man who is impossible to buy for."

"What? I ain't impossible," Arthur protests.

"Yes, you are. Shut up and sit down," Merlin says, going to the piano. He glances at Alice, as if he is asking for permission to touch it. She smiles and gives a small nod, settling in a chair beside Gaius.

Gwen stands by the piano, leaning over and whispering with Merlin, conferring quietly about something.

"Okay. Sorry," Gwen apologizes, smiling.

Merlin starts to play, and Arthur recognizes the tune almost instantly. "Somewhere" from _West Side Story._

Gwen sings from memory, the words burned into her soul.

"There's a place for us, somewhere a place for us.

Peace and quiet and open air wait for us somewhere.

There's a time for us, someday a time for us;

Time together with time to spare, time to look, time to care.

Someday, somewhere, we'll find a new way of living;

We'll find a way of forgiving, somewhere.

There's a place for us, a time and place for us.

Hold my hand, and we're halfway there.

Hold my hand and I'll take you there,

Somehow, someday, somewhere."

When she finishes, Alice, Morgana, and Gaius are weeping openly and Arthur and Elyan are even surreptitiously dabbing their eyes.

Arthur is the first to applaud, and soon their small audience is giving them a standing ovation. Gwen brings her hands over her mouth, laughing and crying at once. Merlin wipes his nose on his sleeve.

Arthur comes over and takes Gwen's hands in his, holding them softly. "That was beautiful. Thank you."

"I love you so much, Arthur," Gwen says.

"I love you, too, Guinevere," he says, leaning down to kiss her. It is a soft, tender kiss, almost like the first kiss they shared on Arthur's couch back in Memphis. They feel that same thrill run through their bodies, see the same fireworks inside their heads.

They pull apart, and hear Morgana whisper an awed "Damn" behind them. Arthur leans his forehead against Gwen's.

"Should I sing something for you now?" he asks, grinning.

"No!" Merlin answers. "I've heard him sing. No one wants that."

"Play something else, Merlin!" Morgana calls.

"What would you like to hear?" he asks.

"She likes Motown," Gwen says.

"Ehm, I need more instruments for that," Merlin says, running his hand through his hair. "Too many voices, you see. How do you feel about Ray Charles?"

"Excellent," Morgana says.

_He could have said 'How do you feel about Burl Ives' and she would have agreed,_ Arthur thinks.

Merlin smiles and launches into "Unchain My Heart."

"I think Aunt Alice is in love," Gwen whispers to Arthur, nodding over at Alice, who is rapt.

"I think Morgana is, too," Arthur whispers back.

"Yeah, she could be a little less obvious," Gwen giggles. Then she hears Morgana start to sing along softly, and she squeezes Arthur's hand.

"Don't sing, Morgana," Arthur says. "You're terrible."

"Shut up," Morgana shoots back. But she stops singing.

"Merlin, you are amazing," Alice gushes.

"He's the main attraction at Gwaine's," Elyan tells her. "Toya and I go there a lot, and it's always packed when Merlin is playin'."

"I can see why," Alice says.

Merlin stands. "Your turn, Miss Alice."

"What? Me? No, I can't follow that. Besides, I'm better at classical music…"

"No, no, I won't hear it," Merlin says, dragging her to the piano now. "I want to hear you play." He sits her on the bench and then he goes and plops down beside Gaius in the seat that Alice vacated.

"Command performance, I see," Alice says.

"Do that one, Mom," Morgana says.

"_What_ one, Morgana?"

"That bouncy one. The cake thing."

"_Golliwogg's Cake-Walk?_"

"Sure, that one."

"Okay."

"I love Debussy," Merlin says, nodding encouragingly.

"You know classical music, Merlin?" Gaius asks.

"'Course I do."

Alice starts playing then, her small hands dancing over the keys, gray head bent as she plays from memory.

It's a long and complicated piece, and she doesn't miss a note. They all applaud enthusiastically when she finishes, and she blushes beet red.

"See, this is why I didn't get into performance," she says, trying to shush them. "Okay, I'm done."

"No, you're not," Merlin says, hopping up. "Play with me."

"Yes!" Morgana cries, clapping and laughing.

"What?" Alice's eyes grow wide.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun," Merlin cajoles. She relents, unable to resist his boyish charm.

It takes a few tries, but eventually Alice relaxes enough and they get used to one another's styles. They play something slow and Arthur dances with Gwen, ignoring everyone else. They play something fast and fingers and feet tap.

They chat, more music is played, they laugh. But the night wears on and there is a wedding the next day, so soon the younger men start getting ready to leave, going back to Arthur's apartment.

"I'm just going to use the restroom before we go," Merlin says, heading down the hall.

Arthur is discussing something quietly with Gaius and Gwen is chatting with Elyan and Alice, discussing wedding details, so no one notices Morgana slip away.

Merlin comes out of the bathroom and Morgana is leaning against the wall, waiting.

"All yours," Merlin says casually.

"Are you?" Morgana replies, stepping towards him.

"What?"

"You're very cute, Merlin. And talented. I like that."

"Ehm, thank you?" Merlin says. Morgana is very close.

"Oh, nothing nice to say back? Shame on you, Merlin," she says, dragging her finger down his chest.

"Oh… uh… you're very pretty… and smart… and… forward," he says, backed up against the wall now.

"That's better. I knew you were a gentleman," she says. Then she leans up and kisses him, sliding her hands around his neck.

"Mmph," Merlin squeaks, momentarily surprised, but his eyes quickly close and his hands find their way around her waist as she presses against him.

Morgana's tongue slips forward and Merlin's mouth opens automatically, kissing her back fervently now, forgetting they are in the hallway.

"Oh, for the love of God," Arthur's voice interrupts them. He is standing at the end of the hallway, hands on his hips.

Morgana pulls away from Merlin quickly, but she can't stop the grin from spreading across her face.

"I was just comin' out o' the loo… she kissed _me,_ mate, honest," Merlin stammers. His ears are bright red and he's also trying not to grin.

"I figured that, judging by how she had you pressed up against that wall," Arthur says, smirking at them now.

"Good night, Merlin," Morgana says sweetly, blowing him a kiss.

"Uh… 'night, Morgana," Merlin says, ducking his head and walking quickly past Arthur, back into the foyer.

Arthur just shakes his head and looks at the ceiling.

"You and Gwen aren't any better," Morgana says.

"Yes, but we're getting married," Arthur says. "You met him three hours ago."

"So? It was just a kiss. He's a good kisser," she says, pressing her lips together.

"Don't want to know," Arthur says, turning and leaving.

xXx

Arthur and Gwen say their goodbyes and Elyan and Merlin follow Arthur back to his apartment.

"All right, I warned my neighbors that you two were goin' to be here this weekend," Arthur says as they head up. "So no one should be callin' the cops on you. Well, try to steer clear of old man Dobschuetz, though. He's cranky. All the time."

"Did you warn 'em that one o' your guests is colored?" Elyan asks.

"Yes, I did, and they at least seemed fine. If it wasn't so blasted late already I'd introduce you to the couple across the hall. They've met Guinevere and they like her."

"Good," Elyan says.

The apartment has a few boxes scattered around, Gwen's things that have been brought over already, but otherwise it's clean and uncluttered.

"Gaius got a hotel room for Guinevere and me for the weekend," Arthur says, avoiding looking at Elyan right now. "I'm checkin' in there tonight, so one o' you can have my bed. The other will get the couch. It's big and comfy, though. Y'all can sort out who sleeps where. Flip a coin or somethin'."

"You can have the bed, Elyan," Merlin says. "You need a good night's sleep to give your sister away tomorrow."

"But ain't you the best man?" Elyan says.

"Well, yes… wait, you _don't_ want the bed?"

Elyan laughs. "Okay, I'll take the bed. Thanks, man."

"I'm just going to pack some things and then I'll be going. But I'll be back tomorrow."

xXx

"Oh, good, you're both in here," Alice says, poking her head in through the doorway of Morgana's room.

"Yeah, we're just having a little girl talk," Morgana says.

"Can I join you?" Alice asks.

"Sure," Gwen says, moving over on the bed to make room for Alice to sit.

"I don't like the look on your face, Mom," Morgana says.

"What look?"

"That look that you get when you have something to _discuss._"

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me," Morgana says, chuckling.

"Well, I just wanted to ask Gwen something," Alice says.

"Yes?"

"How old were you when your mother died?"

"Nineteen," Gwen says. "It wasn't that long ago."

"I am sorry for your loss, dear. For both your parents. It must be difficult."

"Sometimes it's more difficult than others. Like now. I don't know how they would have felt about me marryin' a white man, but I'm still gettin' married. Mama would be so proud that I'm wearin' her dress. Daddy would have had some words for Arthur, you better believe that," she says, smiling.

"They're watching over you, you know that," Alice says, patting Gwen's hand.

"I do," she nods. "At least I have Elyan."

"He's a good brother," Alice says.

"Most of the time," Gwen chuckles. "He's got a short fuse sometimes, but he means well."

"Yes, I could see that about him," Alice laughs with Gwen, remembering Elyan's comments at dinner about the grocery store. "But I… well, did your mother ever talk to you about… um… when you get married?"

Gwen smiles and looks down at her hands. "Not really. She told me, 'Keep your knees together till you get married, child, and don't let no man tell you what to do.' That's about it. I think she was waitin' for, well, tonight, to tell me."

"I'm sorry, Gwen."

"I think she did try to, once she knew her time was comin'. But by that point she could hardly talk anymore, so it didn't really work."

"Well, the advice she gave you was sound, I'll grant that. Is there anything you'd… like to know?" Alice asks. Gwen can tell that both Alice and Morgana are hoping she answers no.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Morgana says, starting to get up.

"Sit down, Morgana. Unless there's something you'd like to tell me that I very much do not want to hear?" Alice asks, raising her eyebrows.

"No! Mom! Okay, I flirt a lot, but I'm a good girl!" Morgana protests, sitting back down.

"Good. Gwen?"

Gwen bites her lip nervously. _She's really very good to make herself available like this for me. She doesn't have to. And I do have a couple questions. Do I dare?_

"Does it help if I tell you I'm just as uncomfortable as you are right now?" Alice asks.

Gwen giggles. "A little." She takes a breath. "Does it hurt? I've heard it hurts."

"The first time it will, yes. There's no avoiding it. It may still hurt the second time, too, I'm afraid. Every woman is different, though."

"A lot?" Morgana asks quietly.

"No, not a lot. It… oh, goodness, it's been so many years…"

"Ew, Mom…"

"Sorry, dear, but you did ask. I think it stings. And it's mostly irritating because you're – hopefully – feeling really good and everything's lovely and then _bam._ Ouch."

"That sounds horrible," Gwen gasps.

"It's not, I promise," Alice says, patting her hand. "If things go well, you forget the pain pretty quickly. But that doesn't mean that your first time will be as… oh dear… pleasurable as it should be."

"Don't explain further, Mom, I think we understand that one," Morgana says quickly, glancing at Gwen, who nods.

They are all blushing. "If things go well?" Gwen finally asks.

"If he is gentle and understanding. I think you'll be fine, dear. Arthur always was a sweet boy," Alice says.

"I don't want to think about Arthur that way, Mom," Morgana says. "No offense, Gwen."

"I don't really want to, either, Morgana, but we must think of what Gwen needs right now."

"Thank you, Alice. I know you didn't have to do this," Gwen says quietly. "Um, I have one more question."

"What's that?"

"It's silly and embarrassin'," she says, nervously picking at her fingernails.

"Stop that, Gwen, you're getting a manicure tomorrow," Morgana snaps. Gwen picks at the bedspread instead.

"I doubt very much that it's silly, Gwen. Embarrassing, maybe," Alice says, chuckling nervously.

"Okay." Gwen keeps her eyes on her lap. "Is it all right to enjoy myself during… that?"

"Oh! Oh dear. Goodness. Um, yes, Gwen. It is definitely all right. You _should_ enjoy yourself. As much as possible, in fact."

"Mom!"

"Well, it's important, Morgana. I don't want either of you thinking that doing your 'wifely duty' is just that. It should be fun, not a chore. If it is a chore, then you've married the wrong man!" Alice says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Suddenly Gwen starts laughing. "I'm sorry… it's just… the two of you… and I'm all anxious… and…"

"It's all right, Gwen," Alice laughs now, too. "You're not nervous? Or scared?"

"Not in the bad kind of way. It's like… Christmas Eve. You know something good is going to happen the next day so you're all…" she shakes her hands in the air, indicating her current mood.

"Good. That's how it should feel, Gwen," Alice says. "Is your dress out? Does it need pressing?"

"It's in my room, and I think it's good. Come take a look, though. Just in case," Gwen says, climbing off the bed.


	24. Chapter 24

The doors leading to the jetway open, and Arthur stands, waiting patiently outside gate 3B at Mitchell Field, awaiting the arrival of his father. He told Gaius he'd stop down at the airport in the morning before he went back home.

Uther is the second person to appear, striding casually into the airport, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. Of course he was seated in first class.

"Hey, Pop," Arthur says, hugging his father. He grunts as Uther squeezes him surprisingly tightly.

"Son," Uther says, releasing him. Then he hands him his garment bag.

"Do you have any other luggage, or is this it?"

"That's it. I decided to stay overnight," he says as they start walking. "Not that I'll probably see you tomorrow," he chuckles.

Arthur grins and looks down. "How was your flight?" he asks, deciding to change the subject.

"Uneventful. The stewardess had nice legs."

Arthur snorts.

"How are things at the office?"

"Your little escapade seems to have set off a domino effect," Uther says. "Leon has a girlfriend now, and most surprisingly, Vivian seems to have set her cap for Percy Andersen."

"Yeah, Merlin and I may have had a hand in that," Arthur says.

"What?"  
"We played matchmaker, like a couple of girls, yes. But you have to admit…"

Uther laughs. "Yes, he really brings her back down to earth. It's like he doesn't even understand her when she's being all… like she gets."

"Oh – let me guess. He just gives her that earnest South Dakota Boy stare and she caves, right?" He opens the trunk of his car and places his father's garment bag inside.

Uther laughs again. "It's something to see. But she thinks he walks on water and he thinks she is the only woman on earth. Nice car, by the way."

"Thanks. And wow, Merlin hadn't said any o' that. 'Course he didn't really get an opportunity," Arthur says, starting his car. "'Specially with Morgana's tongue down his throat," he adds quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Who is Leon seeing?"

"Mithian Rodor."

"_Judge_ Rodor's daughter? You're pullin' my leg!"

Uther shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. He ran into her at the courthouse. She had just had lunch with her father, and… what was it? Her purse strap broke or something, and it spilled everywhere. And you know Leon," he says, shrugging.

"Captain Chivalry? I'm sure he took time he didn't really have to help collect every tissue and penny and tube of lipstick she had in there."

"It's like you were there," Uther says dramatically, and Arthur laughs.

"It's good to see you, Pop," Arthur says.

"You, too. I've missed you."

"Me, too."

"Guinevere doing well?"

"The best. I hate that I can't see her today," he pouts.

Uther laughs at him. "Soon enough." He pauses, and clears his throat. "Um, Arthur, we don't need to talk about…"

"I'm good," Arthur cuts him off, holding up his hand. "You don't need to draw me a diagram. Especially not while I'm driving."

"I'm just going to say two things: don't push her if she's nervous, and, um, a gentleman always makes sure she gets, uh…"

"Got it. Now shut up."

Arthur turns onto Gaius' street, seeing Morgana's Thunderbird is conspicuously absent. _She said something about a salon. I bet they've gone._

"You'd better let me go in first to make sure she's not there. I don't know Guinevere as well as you do, but I'd wager my life savings that she's superstitious," Uther says.

"You got that right," Arthur says, chuckling, remembering the fuss she made over him not seeing her dress. "I do need to go back to my place and collect Merlin and Elyan," he says. "And we need to move Guinevere's car. Maybe you could drive her car and follow me? That way you can see our place."

"Sure. Except _you_ drive that thing, and _I'll_ drive the Caddy," Uther says, opening the door. "Be right back," he says, leaving a chuckling Arthur in the car.

xXx

"Morgana, you're not taking me to your salon, are you? My hair ain't like yours, you know," Gwen says as they drive.

"I know, dear, and I told you, don't worry. I have connections. You remember Isaac Helios? His sister owns a small salon. I'm taking you there. And I've arranged for my stylist to be there as well, to do my hair. And we're both having our nails done."

"Mr. Helios' sister?" Gwen asks. "Is that a good idea?"

"Still skittish since he tried to make time with you, huh?"

"Maybe."

"He's over it, I promise."

"Why, did you threaten him?"

"Maybe a little," Morgana grins. "But mostly he's decided he likes and, more surprisingly, respects your darling future husband."

Gwen giggles a little. "What's her name?"

"Naomi. She's lovely. And we're here."

xXx

The day passes in a whirlwind. Arthur is barred from his Uncle's house, so he stays with Merlin and Elyan. He drives them around, showing them various points of interest. It's a cold, gray day, so there's not much sightseeing that can be done. They see the lake, which is choppy and gray. He drives them through downtown, which is a bunch of buildings. Points out a couple museums. Tells them there's a zoo he plans to take Guinevere to when it's warm again.

"When will that be? July?" Elyan asks. He's been nothing but cold since they've arrived. Arthur has loaned him a sweater and a coat.

Arthur shrugs. "Maybe April. Maybe May. From what I understand, it varies. I'm getting used to the cold, though. I may be singin' a different tune come January, but we'll see."

"What's in January?"

"That's when it gets _really_ cold, according to my uncle," Arthur says.

"This isn't _really_ cold?" Elyan asks, flabbergasted.

"Nah, mate, this is just… chilly," Merlin says. "We had a few winters back home where you'd go outside and breathe in, and all the snot in your nose would freeze."

"Yuck," Elyan says. "I'm definitely stayin' in the south," he declares.

After they finish at the salon, Gwen and Morgana return home and have lunch with Alice and Gaius. Gwen picks at her lunch and fidgets with her veil, now pinned into her hair for the duration. Naomi did a beautiful job, pulling half of Gwen's hair up and away from her face and leaving the back long, curled into loose ringlets that Morgana constantly fusses over to make sure they don't get crushed. Her nails are painted lavender, her favorite color.

Morgana's hair is up in a French twist with a few flowers tucked in. Her nails are deep red, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

After lunch, Alice comes out with a small box. She places it on the table in front of Gwen.

"What's this?" Gwen asks.

"Something borrowed," Alice says. "You have your old: your dress. You've got plenty of new: your shoes, your headpiece, your shawl. You need borrowed and you need blue."

Gwen opens the box to reveal a string of cream-colored pearls that match the cream satin of her dress perfectly. "Oh, Aunt Alice, they're perfect, thank you," Gwen says. She stands and hugs Alice tightly.

"Watch the hair, Mom," Morgana scolds.

"Oh, hush, you."

"You've been so wonderful to me since we've been here. Thank you so much, both of you," Gwen says, wiping a few tears from her eyes as she looks from Alice to Gaius. "And you, too, Morgana. I feel like I have a sister."

Morgana beams and squeezes Gwen's hand. "Me, too. Now come. We have to find you something blue."

"I have some blue earrings, but I don't think they'll work," Gwen says as they head down the hall.

Morgana stops and gets a devilish glint in her eye.

"What? I know that look. What are you thinkin'?"

"Let's look at your underwear," she says, pulling Gwen into her room and immediately digging through Gwen's suitcase and a laundry basket. "I may need to run to Gimbel's…" she mutters.

"Morgana, we don't have much time," Gwen says, but she's looking through her things as well now.

"All the more reason to…" she trails off. "Idea. Mom!" she yells, summoning Alice to save the day.

"Goodness, Morgana, what's with the yelling? And why are you unpacking all of Gwen's things."

"Can you run to the store for us?" Morgana asks. "I'm having a fiendish idea about Gwen's something blue."

Alice stares a moment. Realization dawns; she knows her daughter. "It'll have to be _light_ blue, then," she says, nodding. She grins, and for a moment she looks like a mischievous young girl. "If it's all right with you, Gwen."

Gwen is blushing dark pink, but she nods. "I think I trust you to choose something more than I would _her,_" she says, indicating Morgana with her head.

"Hey!" Morgana protests, and Alice laughs.

"Let me give you some money," Gwen says, standing.

"Don't give it a thought," Alice says. "It's not every day I get dispatched to buy bridal lingerie, you know. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"What if Arthur asks where my something blue is?" Gwen asks, her eyes widening.

"I doubt very much he will, but you'll just have to tell him that you'll show him later," Morgana smirks.

xXx

The wedding is at 4:00. At 3:45, Gwen is fidgeting in a room off of the sanctuary, the same room where she sang for Alan her first time at the church.

"You look lovely, Gwen," Alice says, slipping into the room.

"Thank you, Aunt Alice," Gwen says.

"You also look sad. Thinking about your parents?"

Gwen nods. "My daddy would have been so proud to give me away. Even if it is to a white man," she chuckles. "Mama would love that I'm wearin' her dress."

"They're looking down on you today. They're here in this place with you," Alice says.

"I know. How do the boys look?" she asks, blinking away tears that were starting to form. _Morgana would kill me if I ruined my makeup._

"Arthur looks very handsome. That boy can wear anything, though," Alice chuckles.

"I know, it's almost disgusting," Gwen giggles.

"Your brother looks quite dashing as well. And Merlin, well, his suit is kind of wearing him, but he's so charming and adorable that he can get away with it," Alice laughs.

"He's too skinny to wear a suit decently," Gwen laughs. "If he could have come sooner, we would have sent him to a tailor. Then he might have stood a chance."

There is a knock at the door, and Alice goes to answer.

"Hey, big sister," Elyan says, stepping in. Alice decides to leave the siblings to have a moment alone.

"Hey," Gwen says. "You clean up pretty good."

"Gee, thanks," he chuckles. "I had Mr. Gaius take a picture of me so I could show Toya. He's gon' mail it to me."

"She'll like that," Gwen says, smiling. She walks over and straightens his already-straight tie and brushes some imaginary lint from his shoulders.

"You look beautiful, Gwen. You look just like how I remember Mama lookin' before she got sick."

"Daddy always said I look like her," Gwen says quietly.

"But with his eyes," Elyan smiles. "We both got those."

"And everything else is completely different," Gwen says, laughing. "How is Arthur?"

"Last I saw him he was pacin' and sayin, 'No, no, no, I can't do this,' and then he went to go throw up," Elyan says. He almost gets through it with a straight face.

Gwen smacks his arm. "He was not!" she laughs.

"He's hoppin' around like an excited jackrabbit," Elyan says, laughing with her. "You'd think it was Christmas."

Morgana comes in now, a flurry of green satin. "If you need to pee, this is your last chance," she declares.

"She's somethin' else," Elyan mutters, shaking his head slightly.

"Comin' from _you,_ that's sayin' somethin'," Gwen laughs. She reaches over and hugs her brother. "I love you, Baby Brother."

"Love you, too, Gwennie."

Alice pokes her head in the door again. "Gwen, we're ready whenever you are, dear."

"Thank you," she says. She looks at Morgana. "Ready?"

"Are _you?_" she shoots back, a teasing glint in her eye.

xXx

_I'm glad there's not a lot of people here,_ Gwen decides, waiting outside the back of the church. She can hear the music and Morgana has just made her grand entrance.

_Probably the only time where she won't upstage me, _Gwen thinks, chuckling.

"What're you gigglin' at?" Elyan asks.

"Nothin'," she says. "Let's go."

They head into the sanctuary, and the few people in attendance stand. Uther, Gaius, and Alice on the groom's side; Alan's wife Kathy, and surprisingly, Isaac Helios on Gwen's side.

"Who's the bald brother?" Elyan whispers.

"Isaac Helios. He's a colleague of Arthur's," Gwen answers automatically. Her eyes are on Arthur, who is standing in front next to Merlin, watching her approach.

They may as well be the only two people there. Gwen thinks Elyan is asking her something else, but she doesn't answer.

_He looks so handsome. So happy._

Arthur watches her approach on her brother's arm, walking gracefully in a cream-colored dress, simple but elegant. _I think she said it was her mother's. It's perfect. She's perfect._

Gwen and Elyan reach the front of the church, where Elyan hands his sister off to Arthur before joining Kathy and Isaac on the bride's side of the church.

Gwen smiles shyly at him, handing her bouquet of simple daisies and carnations to Morgana.

"Hi," Arthur says quietly, taking both her hands in his, rubbing her knuckles lightly with his thumbs.

Pastor Gary starts to speak, but the words wash over her like a fog. She squeezes Arthur's hands and smiles up at him.

_My heart is pounding. Is his heart pounding? I can't believe I'm actually here._

_ She is so beautiful. I didn't think she could look more beautiful than she normally looks. I can't believe she's going to be my wife._

Gradually, Pastor Gary's words start to drift into their consciousness.

"…our similarities bring us together, but our differences are what make us beautiful. Without the heat of the day, we could not appreciate the sweet coolness of the night. Without the night's darkness, we could not appreciate the bright warmth of the sun."

_Pastor Gary is a smart guy,_ Arthur thinks.

"Arthur?"

_Oh, right. Vows._

They go through the rest of the ceremony, repeating their words, sliding rings on one another's fingers. Arthur tries to put Gwen's ring on the wrong hand, which makes her giggle.

Occasionally they hear Alice's sniffles.

Finally Pastor Gary says the five words that Arthur has been waiting for.

"You may kiss the bride."

Arthur leans down, slipping his arm around Gwen's waist while she rests her hands on his lapels. He kisses her softly, leisurely but longingly. And probably just a little longer than he should have.

Gwen pulls away gently, blushing, and his lips follow her for just a moment before he regains his senses.

_Right. We're in a church. People are lookin'._

He clears his throat quietly and Gwen giggles at him again.

"It is my honor to introduce for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Pendragon," Pastor Gary says. He nods at Alan, who starts playing again, and they walk back up the aisle to the back of the church.

_Won't be much of a receiving line,_ Gwen thinks. Merlin and Morgana join them, hugging them both in turn.

Uther is next, hugging Arthur and then Gwen. Then he kisses Gwen on the cheek, surprising everyone.

"Take good care of her, Son," Uther says to Arthur, a strange, wistful expression on his face.

_He misses his wife,_ Gwen realizes. She doesn't have any time to dwell on this, though, because a damp-eyed Alice is squeezing her in a tight hug.

"I'm going to miss you around the house," she says, laughing a little.

"I'll be around," Gwen says, smiling at her.

Gaius, then Kathy; then Isaac presents himself.

"Helios, thanks for stopping in," Arthur says, shaking his hand.

"Pendragon," he nods. "Call it curiosity. And I figured I'd even out the bride's side," he grins.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Helios," Gwen says, shaking his hand.

"What do I have to do to get you to call me Isaac?" he asks, smirking at her.

"Next time, maybe," she says with a shrug. She rubs her bare arms with her hands, a little chilled.

"Cold?" Arthur asks. "You can have my jacket."

"I have a shawl somewhere…" she says, looking around. "Morgana, where did it go?"

"I'll get it, dear," Alice says. Elyan is shaking hands with Arthur, reminding him of the promise he made to keep Gwen happy.

"Elyan…" Gwen sighs.

"What? He may be your husband now, but I'm still your brother," he says, defending himself.

"Just shut up and give me a hug," she says, pulling him over.

"Here you are, dear," Alice returns with the cashmere shawl that Morgana bought for her the previous week as a pre-wedding present.

"Thank you," Gwen says.

"I could have kept you plenty warm," Arthur whispers in her ear, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, biting back her laughter.

"Ooo, this is soft, I like this," he says, rubbing her shoulder, feeling the soft cashmere under his hand. "Come here." He pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" he asks softly, his hands still running over the shawl.

"No, Mr. Pendragon, you did not," she says, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Well, _Mrs. Pendragon,_ you are simply the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my entire life. Just when I think you couldn't get more beautiful, you do. Inside and out."

"You look pretty good yourself," she says, leaning up and kissing him. _Mrs. Pendragon,_ she thinks, smiling.

"Pretty good?" he asks, feigning insult.

"Oh, all right, you are dashingly handsome. Distractingly so, in fact," she says.

"That's better," he nods, kissing her in return.

"Um, kids, we have dinner reservations, remember?" Gaius interrupts them. Arthur and Gwen discover that they're alone in the back of the church. Everyone else has gone out to their cars already.

"Oh yeah. Right; let's go see what damage Morgana and Merlin have done to my car," Arthur says, taking Gwen's hand and leading her out.

xXx

"Hello, may I help… oh…" the young man behind the desk stammers at the unusual group in front of them.

Gaius steps forward. "We have a private dining room reserved," he says curtly.

"Oh. Um, name?"

"Pendragon."

"Oh… oh! Right. Sorry, sir. This way…"

"What's his problem?" Morgana asks.

"Gwen and me, prob'ly," Elyan answers. "Stupid snooty white folks…"

"No kidding," Morgana agrees. Elyan stares at her. "What? Yeah, I'm white, but I think you'll agree that I'm neither stupid nor snooty."

Elyan laughs now. "No, definitely not. You're all right, Morgana."

"Thanks, I'm so glad I have your approval," she says, smirking at him now. "I'll finally be able to sleep at night."

"Elyan just met his match, I think," Gwen whispers to Arthur, who laughs.

They file into the smaller dining room. It has a table set for eight, with candles and flowers.

"Uncle Gaius, it's beautiful," Gwen says. Arthur pulls out a chair for Gwen and she sits, keeping her shawl around her.

"I can take no credit, Gwen. I just told them to make it pretty," Gaius chuckles, taking a seat as well.

A few minutes later, Merlin joins them, late. He passes a set of keys to Arthur.

"Arthur?" Gwen asks.

"We're stayin' here tonight," he tells her quietly. "Uncle sprung for a room for us. Merlin was taking your suitcase up for you."

"How did my suitcase get… oh, never mind," Gwen says, shaking her head. "We're stayin' here?" she asks, the important bit sinking in now.

"Well, this restaurant _is_ in a hotel, you know," Arthur says. "And I know we have our apartment, but your brother and my best friend are currently occupying it."

"Oh. I guess I just thought they'd go to Gaius and Alice's house…" She turns and looks at Gaius. "Thank you, Uncle Gaius, that was very sweet of you."

"Not a problem at all," Gaius waves his hand dismissively. They start looking at menus now. "Order anything you'd like, it's on me," he adds.

"No, you don't, old man," Uther interrupts. "I'm getting dinner."

"So that means salad for everyone!" Morgana exclaims, and everyone laughs, even Uther.

Gwen is a bit surprised. Arthur leans over, "Pop completely dotes on Morgana. She teases him about anything she can think of as often as possible, and he still thinks she hung the moon." Then he declares loudly, "I'll be having prime rib. Hmm… or surf and turf…"

"Well, then, lobster for me," Gwen bravely adds, a bit nervous at teasing her new father-in-law.

Luckily, he laughs.

Dinner is enjoyable and lively. There is a piano in the corner and Merlin plays after they're done eating, just so Arthur and Gwen can have a wedding dance. Morgana sits beside Merlin on the piano bench, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"What's goin' on there?" Gwen asks, swaying in Arthur's arms.

"I have no idea. Caught them makin' out in the hallway Friday night, though," Arthur says.

"What? Morgana didn't tell me that!"

"She didn't? That's surprising. _She_ kissed _him._ too. At least that's what Merlin says."

"I'm inclined to believe him, based on what I know 'bout Merlin and what I know 'bout Morgana," Gwen chuckles. "Who knows, maybe he'll wind up family?"

Arthur ponders this a moment. "I don't know about that. I think she'd grow bored of him eventually, even if one of them was willing to move, and I don't think either one is."

"You may be right. Besides, she's sweet on Alvarr."

"She is?"

"You don't see it? How could you not see it?" Gwen asks.

"Hmm. I'll have to open my eyes…"

"Clearly. First you don't see that Vivian was makin' eyes at you, now this," she teases.

"Maybe it's because my attention is usually focused in your direction," he tries.

"Doubtful, but thank you for trying," she says.

Arthur holds her a little closer, wrapping her in his arms so that they are doing little more than hugging and swaying. "I love you, Guinevere. Just realized I hadn't told you yet today."

"I love you, too, Arthur," Gwen says. They dance quietly for a few moments, and then Gwen asks, "So, would it be rude to tell everyone to go home?"

"Guinevere!" Arthur exclaims, laughing in surprise.


	25. Chapter 25

"Wait," Arthur says. He sticks his foot in the door to hold it open, then scoops Gwen into his arms. "I have to carry you over the threshold," he declares, kissing her.

He pushes the door with his foot, swinging it open, and he walks through with her in his arms. The door slams closed behind them, locking them into their sanctuary for the night.

"I didn't think they'd ever go home," Arthur says, nuzzling her neck.

"I know," she agrees quietly. "You can put me down now." She absently notes that Gaius has gifted them a suite, not just a regular room. And he has carried her straight through the sitting room to the bedroom.

"I like holding you," he says, squeezing her tightly. "You fit nicely in my arms."

"So, you're just goin' to stand here and hold me all night, then?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh. Good point," he says, grinning now and setting her gently on her feet. They stand and regard each other for a few moments, neither sure who should make the first move.

Gwen giggles suddenly. Arthur clears his throat. "Um, I probably should…" he takes his jacket off and drapes it over the back of a chair.

Gwen bites her lip and steps out of her shoes. _Don't be nervous. Remember what Alice said. This should be enjoyable._ She reaches for his tie, carefully untying it for him. He stares, lips parted, as she slides it from around his neck and sets it on the chair with his jacket. Then she reaches down for his hand and lifts it, removing each cufflink in turn, setting them both on the table.

He reaches his hand out and strokes her cheek softly before leaning down to kiss her once, sliding her shawl off her shoulders.

"I'm nervous," he admits against her lips.

"Me, too," she says, her eyes closed.

"I don't know what to do next," he says, chuckling. "I mean, I know what I _want_ to do, but…"

Gwen kisses him. "I'm goin' to go change," she says, deciding to be bold on the outside, even if her stomach feels as though butterflies have taken up residence and her heart is pounding like Aaron's drumset back in Memphis.

"Change?" Arthur repeats, bewildered. He watches as she picks up her suitcase and carries it into the bathroom. "Should I change, too?" he calls after her. _What is she changing into?_

"If you want," she says, avoiding his eyes as she closes the door behind her.

_What has she got in that suitcase?_ Arthur wonders. He kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt, his fingers opening it automatically. _Okay, Arthur. Get your head on. You know what you want. Seems like she wants it too._

_ But I don't want to scare her by being too eager. How much do I take off? I have no idea if she's going to come out of there in lingerie or a flannel nightgown._

_ I hope it's not a flannel nightgown._

In his undershirt and pants, Arthur decides to turn back the bedcovers. He ponders it for a moment, glances at the bathroom door, wondering how long she's going to take.

_Hell with it,_ Arthur decides. He shucks his t-shirt, pants and socks, but leaves his briefs on, and climbs into bed. _We both know what we're goin' to be doin'._

A minute later the bathroom door opens and Gwen appears, a vision in lavender silk.

"Lord have mercy," Arthur whispers, watching her as she walks shyly towards him.

"Do you like it?" she asks, biting her lower lip. She decided to put the robe on, but left it open.

Arthur swallows and nods. _I can see so much of her,_ he notes. Now that she's closer he can see that it's a robe and gown, where he thought it was just a long-sleeved gown. His gaze drops to the pointed tips of her breasts, standing out beneath the silk. His mouth goes dry and his brain goes blank.

_Is he naked under there?_ Gwen wonders, her eyes roving over his bare chest, finally able to look without reservation. She takes a step closer.

"Come here," Arthur says quietly, patting the mattress beside him.

Gwen bites her lip again and slides the robe down off her shoulders, letting it slither to the floor. She shivers slightly.

"Are you cold? We can turn up the heat…" he says, leaving the words hanging in the air when the unintentional double meaning hits him.

Gwen presses her lips together, trying to hold the giggles that are threatening. It doesn't work and they bubble forth, her hand raising to her lips now.

Her laughter dies away as she takes a deep breath and sits on the bed. "This is a very big bed," she says. _Stupid thing to say._

"It's a king sized bed," Arthur answers. "We can get one this big once we get a house… if you want…" _Rambling._ "You look very beautiful, Guinevere," he refocuses his brain, reaching out to skim his fingers down her arm, feeling the goosebumps that rise at his touch.

"Thank you," she says. "Arthur?"

"Yes?" he asks, scooting a little closer.

"I'm nervous, but… I'm not scared… just in case you were wondering…" she stammers. He kisses her shoulder and her eyes drift closed.

"You're not?" he asks, kissing it again, moving up to her neck, drawing her down so she is lying beside him now.

"No," she whispers, angling her head now to give him better access to her neck. He kisses higher, to her ear, kissing the edge then nibbling it a bit, remembering how much she liked that the first time he did it.

"I was afraid I'd scare you if I went too fast," he murmurs, sucking her earlobe into his mouth a moment before turning her head back towards his with a gentle finger on her chin. He closes his lips over hers, scooting even closer, his hand sliding, holding her waist.

"I was afraid you'd think less of me if I was too eager," she pulls her lips away to speak.

"Are you kidding? You're my _wife,_ Guinevere. Being too eager can only make your stock go up," he gasps, hovering over her now, his hand bunching the material of her nightgown.

Gwen's giggles are cut off by Arthur's lips as he swoops down again, kissing her hungrily, their tongues intermingling. He slides his hand up to her breast, no longer hesitant, feeling it for the first time without the barrier of a bra, but still through the silk of her gown.

_Good God, it feels so good,_ he thinks, caressing the soft mound, acquainting his hand with its shape, its weight. He rubs his thumb across her nipple once, then again, feeling it stiffen under his touch.

"Oh…" she gasps, arching into his hand, and suddenly she wants her beautiful silk nightgown _off._

She slides her hands down his back, feeling his muscles as he moves, the warmth of his skin. Her fingers skim the elastic waistband of his underwear for just a second before her hands travel back up to his shoulders.

_I guess that answers my question,_ she finds herself thinking. She also finds that Arthur is kissing her shoulder again, this time moving the thin strap of her nightgown down and out of the way.

"This is a lovely nightgown, but I think it's time for it to come off," Arthur mutters against her skin, sliding one hand down over her body, reaching for the hem.

"Yes," Gwen agrees, moving to help now, much to Arthur's surprise and delight.

He slides the hem of the gown up her legs, his fingers trailing on her skin, leaving fire in their wake. Gwen lifts up and scoots the gown out from under her bottom, then lifts it over her head and off.

_Do it fast, before I lose my nerve._

She instinctively wants to cover herself, but wills her arms down when she sees the appreciation on Arthur's face as he drinks her in with his eyes.

"God, Guinevere, you're… beautiful… perfect…" he whispers, one hand coming forward to touch, then withdrawing before he can make contact.

Gwen takes his hand and places it on her bare breast. Then she takes his face and kisses him. Arthur groans and takes possession of the kiss, leaning over her again, his hand retracing its earlier steps, this time completely free of barriers.

He releases her lips and kisses down her neck, his destination clear in his mind as he trails wet kisses until he finally reaches his goal, closing his lips around one dark straining nipple. He teases it with his tongue and Gwen gasps, gripping his hair in her hand.

_She likes this._ Arthur kisses his way across to her other breast, lavishing the same attention on it. He gets a little carried away and bites lightly.

"Ah!" Gwen gasps.

"Sorry," he says, kissing her breast softly now.

"No… I liked it," she admits.

"What? Oh…" He stares a moment, his eyes wide, and she cups his cheek, bringing his face back up to hers, kissing him.

Arthur's hand slides down now, over the soft skin of her flat stomach, till his fingers touch lace. He skims his fingers over the small garment for a moment, then pulls his lips away. "I want to see," he whispers.

"Okay…" Gwen says, puzzled as to why he wants to see her panties.

"Blue?" he asks. "Why blue? I mean, I like them, but I guess I was expecting white…"

Gwen giggles a bit. "They are my 'something blue' for the wedding," she says. "You know, something old, something new, something borrowed…"

"Something blue," Arthur finishes quietly. He is staring at them.

"Baby?" Gwen prompts.

"Hmm? Oh. They're distracting… I guess I didn't realize how… distracting… your underthings might be…"

_He likes my underwear. That's unexpected._ "Maybe they should come off, then," she whispers, barely audible.

His eyes snap back to her face.

_That got his attention._

"Yes… I guess they… probably should…" he says. Then he pounces again, his lips crashing onto hers. She squeaks in surprise, but kisses him back with equal fervor. His hand that was lingering at her waist is pulling at her panties now, and she lifts her hips so he can slide the pale blue garment off.

"Me, too," he says taking her hand and gently guiding it to his briefs, indicating that she should do it.

Gwen hooks her thumbs into the waistband and tugs, starting to pull them down. She doesn't account for his anatomy, though, and it gets caught a moment.

"Whoa… wait," he says, helping now, and in a few moments they are both completely naked.

_Finally._

Their hands get bolder, their lips get hungrier. Arthur's fingers slip between Gwen's thighs, touching her. He groans when he discovers that she is thoroughly wet and thoroughly ready. She gasps as he finds _that_ spot, tossing her head to the side reflexively.

She moans quietly and slides her hand down his chest and over his stomach until she finds her target, touching shyly, not entirely sure what to do with it.

Arthur groans and drops his head onto her shoulder, rendered weak at her touch. Gwen wraps her fingers around his length, holding him in her hand. She squeezes lightly and he groans.

"Oh…" He slips a single finger inside her now, moving it in and out a few times.

"Ah…" she gasps, and her hand moves, sliding on his shaft.

"Yes," he says, "do that some more."

"Oh," she gasps, moving her hand up and down along his length, gradually growing in confidence until he suddenly tells her to stop.

"Please… you need to stop…" he grunts, lifting his head from her breast.

Gwen giggles a little again and removes her hand. Arthur kisses her lips again, removing his fingers from her and settling himself between her waiting thighs.

"Yes, Arthur," she whispers, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.

"I love you, Guinevere," he mutters against her lips.

"I love you, Arthur," she answers, sliding her thighs against his hips.

He drops his hips and moves himself into position, sliding forward just slightly, entering her slowly, trying to be gentle.

Gwen closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as Arthur plunges forward, breaking through.

He feels her tense up as the pain hits her. "I'm sorry," he whispers, kissing her ear, her cheek, her lips, peppering her face and neck with soft, gentle kisses, trying to kiss away any pain he caused.

"It's all right," Gwen says, breathing again, "couldn't be helped."

Arthur waits a minute, waiting for her to adjust to his intrusion, willing his over-stimulated body to be still for just a little longer. _Feels so good… No. Don't think about how amazingly good she feels…_

Gwen wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him to her while he waits. She kisses his cheek; she moves one hand up to thread through his hair.

"Better?" he asks.

"I think so," she says.

He lifts himself up again and slides out and then back in again, moving slowly, finding his rhythm.

"Oh," Gwen gasps, her hips moving to meet his thrusts now, her hands groping for him, looking for somewhere to grasp. She grips his arms, his chest, his face, then gives up and throws her hands up over her head.

"God… Guinevere…" Arthur groans softly, watching her writhing beneath him, her small, lithe body more beautiful than his imagination could have rendered.

Gwen opens her eyes and meets his dark gaze. She moves her hands up to his face again, pulling his lips down to hers, needing his kisses as delicious fire spreads through her body, starting and ending where they are joined.

"Mmm," Arthur hums into her, then tears his lips away. "Oh… no…" he grunts, thrusting deep and hard, stilling as his seed rushes forth within her.

He collapses carefully over her, tucking his face into her neck. "I couldn't hold on any longer," he whispers.

"It's all right, Baby, it was wonderful," Gwen says, shifting slightly beneath him.

"Not for you, it wasn't," he argues, rolling off of her and to the side, pulling her with him, against his side.

"I'm fine," she says.

"I feel like a heel," he confesses.

"Well, we'll just have to try again, won't we?" Gwen says, tilting her head up to kiss his chin.

"What? Oh," Arthur says, a slow grin spreading across his face as her words sink in. "I think I need a little time, though," he chuckles. She kisses his chest.

xXx

Gwen snuggles against Arthur, having just returned from a little quick clean-up in the bathroom. Her hair is now in a loose braid, to keep it from tangling.

"I still feel bad," Arthur says, kissing her forehead.

"Stop it, you. You have the rest of your life to make it up to me."

"I do, don't I?" he says, smiling a little now.

They lie quietly for a time, Gwen tracing patterns on Arthur's chest, Arthur stroking her back.

_Ask him. You know you're dyin' to know._ "Arthur?"

"Yes, darlin'?"

"Had you ever… done that before?"

He is quiet for just a little longer than she would have liked, and she is just about to say "never mind," when he answers.

"I'm not entirely sure," he says.

"How can you not be entirely sure?" she asks, lifting her head to look at him.

"Well, college, you know. Or maybe you don't know. You probably kept your head well into your studies."

"As you already know, yes," Gwen says. "I didn't go in much for partyin'. Mama had just died and I had to keep my scholarship."

"Of course. Well, my freshman year was a bit… cliché," he admits. "First time away from home, so I went a little wild. Drinkin', carryin' on, you know."

"I have an idea, yes."

"Well, one mornin' I woke up to find myself in bed with a girl I had no recollection of seein' before. We were both completely bare-assed naked, of course, and I had no idea what had gone on the night before."

"Arthur…" she admonishes.

"I know, I know. It gets worse, too. I got outta bed before she woke up and got dressed and went back to my dorm room and never saw her again."

"You should have at least said goodbye. Or waited till she woke up in case she could tell you what happened."

"Well, there were some clues," he says, raking his hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Clues?"

"Um, condom wrapper on the desk, for one…"

"At least you used one, if you did anything."

"Yeah. Maybe she wasn't as drunk as me. So I guess the answer is yes, I've done this before, but I don't remember any of it."

"Doesn't count, then," Gwen decides, nuzzling his neck.

"That was near the end of freshman year. It was also the end of my partyin'. Hard partyin', anyway. I didn't want to suddenly find myself someone's daddy. Or damage my brain too much. I was pre-law, after all."

"Well, I'm glad that little phase didn't last too long," Gwen says, her hand still roving his chest, occasionally traveling lower to his stomach. She slides it across his stomach and stills her hand, hugging his waist.

"So was Pop," Arthur chuckles. He slides his hand down her back and squeezes her rear once before just resting his hand there. "Your skin is so soft," he says quietly, moving his thumb, softly stroking the skin on her hip.

"You'll find out why when you see my collection of lotions and creams," she says, smirking at him.

"So, house with a bathroom that has lots of storage space, then," he declares, reaching up with his free hand to tilt her chin up to his.

"You really want a house, don't you?" Gwen asks in between his kisses.

"Mmm-hmm," he answers, nibbling lightly at her lips now, coaxing them apart.

_He must be ready to go again,_ Gwen thinks, her heart lurching excitedly in her chest.

"Ready for more?" he whispers in her ear, his lips brushing against her skin.

"I was ready for more fifteen minutes ago," Gwen says, grinning at him.

"Ouch…" Arthur says, falling away, clutching his chest.

Gwen leans over him now, kissing him, "Sorry, couldn't pass it by," she says.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest. "I can't say I blame you, but…" he flips her over suddenly, making her yelp and giggle in surprise, "you will pay for your smart comment, Mrs. Pendragon."

"Oh, you think so?" she shoots back, arching her back, pressing up against him.

"Oh," Arthur grunts, "maybe not…" He leans down and kisses her, his hands boldly roving her skin, skimming down her side and back up to slide his thumb over her nipple a few times.

Gwen makes a mewling noise in her throat, plunging her fingers into his hair. Arthur kisses down her neck to her chest, leaving a hot wet trail of kisses on her skin. She sighs as his tongue slides over her nipple, his hand stroking her inner thigh, coaxing her legs apart.

It doesn't take much convincing, and her legs part willingly for him as his fingers move higher, finding her center again.

"Mmm, yes…" Gwen sighs as he touches, his fingers gentle.

"You're not sore at all?" he whispers.

"No. Not right now," she gasps. "Oh…" She reaches for him now, grasping him in her slender hand, moving around, exploring further than last time.

Arthur groans as she touches him, burying his face in her neck. He inhales deeply. "You smell so good…"

"So do you," she answers, pulling him gently over her, guiding his shaft where she wants it.

_Already?_ Arthur thinks, but doesn't say anything, obliging his wife. He thrusts carefully into her, finding it much easier this time.

"Ah!" Gwen exclaims. It twinges a bit, but subsides quickly.

"Does it still hurt?" Arthur asks, concerned. He stills.

"Just a little at first," Gwen says, "I'm okay now."

"You sure?" he asks, still not moving.

"_Go,_ Arthur," she says, tilting her hips up against him, trying to encourage him.

"Okay," he says, moving again. Gwen sighs. He moves a little faster and she moans softly, hooking a leg around his hip.

"Arthur," she whispers his name, feeling something building, the tingling warmth spreading again, quicker this time.

He bends down and kisses her lips, then her ear, nipping the edge of it, his hand on her breast again. Her breathing is growing shallow and quick, her hands are clutching his shoulders, his chest, and she is starting to quiver beneath him.

"Oh… Arthur!" she cries out his name, digging her nails into his shoulders as her body bucks under his, her climax washing over her.

Arthur lets loose now, thrusting a half-dozen more times before reaching his own completion, clinging to her as she clings to him, a tangle of limbs.

"Better," he sighs, sliding carefully out of her and rolling them on their sides.

"Oh, Lord," Gwen says, "Now I know why people like to do that."

Arthur laughs then, hugging her close and kissing her forehead. He pulls the blankets over them now, snuggling into the large bed.

"What time is it, anyway?" Gwen asks after a bit.

"Nearly one," Arthur says.

"No wonder I'm so beat," she says. "I'm gonna like sleepin' here with you, I think," she adds, her voice growing quiet and sleepy.

"I'm gonna like havin' you here with me," Arthur says. He lifts her chin and kisses her lips softly. "I love you so much, Guinevere," he whispers.

"I love you, too Arthur," she whispers back. "Good night, Baby."

xXx

Gwen stirs, slowly waking. She turns her face into her pillow and tries to move.

_Why can't I move?_ Then she feels something warm pressed against her back, an arm around her waist, holding her tightly.

_That's right. We got married yesterday,_ she thinks, smiling, her eyes still closed. She squirms backward, snuggling into him.

"People are tryin' to sleep back here," he mutters. Then she feels his lips on her neck.

"Oh, really, how many people you got back there?" she asks, moving her head so he can more easily kiss her neck.

He chuckles against her neck and squeezes her once before loosening his grip so she can turn to face him. "Good morning, Mrs. Pendragon."

"Good morning, husband of mine," she answers back, kissing him softly. "I like that. Mrs. Pendragon. It sounds better every time I hear it."

"Me, too," he says, leaning to kiss her again. He tries to deepen the kiss, but she pulls away.

"Arthur… I haven't brushed my teeth," she protests, covering her mouth with her hand.

"I don't care," he says, trying again.

"I do," she says, pressing her fingers against his lips. He kisses them instead.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, giving up.

"A bit. I'd like a shower, actually."

"Okay. But after that, do you want to go down to the restaurant, get room service, or, I don't know, check out and find a diner somewhere? Go home?"

"I've never had room service," she says, grinning.

"Mmm, correct answer," he says. Then he kisses her forehead and releases her. She slides from the bed, grabs her silk robe, and quickly puts it on.

_I don't know why I'm bashful all of a sudden, he's already seen everything._

She goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. A moment later Arthur can hear water running, and he knows she must be brushing her teeth.

_Was kind of hoping for round three this morning,_ he muses, frowning down at his lower half. He hears the shower turn on.

A moment later, he almost sees the little lightbulb go on over his head.

Padding to the bathroom door, he tries the knob, praying that it is unlocked.

It turns, and he grins.

"Arthur?" she asks.

_I'm not as stealthy as I thought._ "Just need to use the toilet, darlin', is that all right?" he asks.

"Oh. Um, yeah, that's fine," she says, then resumes humming.

_I do have to pee._ He uses the toilet, and then brushes his own teeth. Then he creeps to the tub, shifting the curtain aside a bit.

Her back is to him, so he slips inside and wraps his arms around her waist.

"Ah! Arthur!" she yelps loudly, jumping. "What the hell are you—"

He silences her protests with his lips, kissing her properly, the way he wanted to before. She melts into his embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck, a bar of soap still clutched in one hand.

"I brushed my teeth," he tells her once he releases her lips. "And I wanted to shower with you."

"Apparently," she says, sliding her soapy hands down his chest, pushing him slightly away.

"Wait, what are you…?"

"I want to see," she says, slowly looking down.

"Oh…" he says, surprised. Then he grins. "Well?"

"I've never seen one… that color… before…" she says, biting her lip.

"So you've seen one?"

"Arthur, I have a younger brother who used to like to run around nekkid as a jaybird until he was nearly ten years old," she says, smirking at him.

Arthur laughs, then, boldly raking his own eyes over her glistening wet body as well.

"You probably should pretend you don't know that next time you see him," Gwen says.

"It'll be difficult, that's for damn sure," he says, still chuckling as he reaches for her again. "Now come here. Bring that soap, too."


	26. Chapter 26

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pendragon, I don't know if I'll be able to show those houses to you and your wife," the realtor's voice says over the phone. It's clear he's not exactly excited about speaking with Arthur.

"Would you care to be a little more specific, Mr. Borden?" Arthur asks.

"Well, it's a problem of… neighborhoods, you see…" he starts uncomfortably.

"Not any clearer."

"May I be blunt with you?" he finally says.

"_Please_ do," Arthur sighs.

"Those houses are all in, um, white neighborhoods, Mr. Pendragon."

"And?" _I thought he was going to be blunt._

"And if the neighbors see me showing their houses to the two of you, they may not like it…"

"And, what, they put their houses up for sale? Sounds like you can only benefit from that situation, Julius."

"I'm sorry, my boss is advising against it."

"So find me some houses in colored neighborhoods," Arthur suggests.

"Um…"

"What's wrong _now?_"

"Well, the houses in the colored neighborhoods are… not up to your specifications, sir."

Arthur sighs.

"I'm sorry I can't help you."

"No, it's not that you _can't_ help me, it's that you _won't_ help me. There is a big difference," Arthur says icily.

"Well, you should have thought of these things before you married a colored girl," Borden says curtly.

Arthur pulls the handset away from his ear for a moment and stares at it, not believing what he's just heard. "Listen here. One, you're fired. I don't know why my uncle thinks so highly of you, but rest assured that's gon' change. And two, the only recommendations you'll be gettin' from anyone in my family or in this office will be recommendations to _not_ give you business."

He hangs up the phone and goes in search of Gaius.

"Uncle?"

"Arthur, my boy… what's wrong?" Gaius looks up to see Arthur's face looking like a storm.

"Julius Borden is a racist piece of trash," he declares.

"What?"

"Says he won't show Guinevere and me the houses we wanna see because she's colored."

"_What?_" Gaius is incensed.

"I fired him and told him he'd be receiving no more recommendations from us."

"Good man," Gaius nods. He goes to his Rolodex, fingers through the cards until he finds the right one. He plucks it from the file, tears it in half, and deposits it in the waste bin.

Arthur sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Now I gotta tell Guinevere…" he groans.

"Good luck," Gaius says, smiling weakly. "And I'm sorry. I didn't have any idea."

Arthur looks at his watch. 3:30. "Mind if I take off early? I want to clear my head a bit before I talk to Guinevere."

"Go ahead," he nods.

Arthur drives, deciding to head towards the lake to watch the waves crash on the rocks for a bit. It's a miserable, cold December day, windy with snow threatening. He parks his car for a bit, watching the choppy gray lake churn, sending up spray after spray as the waves come to shore.

_I wonder…_ he thinks, sitting bolt upright in the car and shifting it into gear again. He heads up the street, following the lake.

_Guinevere loves the lake._

The road curves away from the water, and Arthur turns on a street, appropriately called Lake Drive. Then he sees it. Them. _For Sale_ signs in front of nothing but an expanse of grass with the lake beyond.

He drives slowly, checking out the lots. There are three. He reaches for his briefcase and scribbles down the number on the signs. Then he turns and heads home to his Guinevere, now with good news to follow the bad.

xXx

"Arthur, you're home early!" Gwen exclaims when Arthur appears at 4:15 instead of his usual 5:15. She goes over and takes his coat for him. "Can I get you anything? I'm just startin' on dinner…"

"Is it something that can hold? I'd like to take you out," he says.

"Um, sure," Gwen says, putting things away that she had just brought out.

"Come sit with me, darlin'," he says, patting the couch.

"We got some more cards today," she says, hanging her apron back in the pantry cupboard and scooping up the cards to bring to Arthur.

"Oh really? Who from?"

She smiles. "Leon and Mithian," she says. "They sent a check," she smirks. "Honestly, did none of your friends know about your trust fund?"

"Just Merlin," he says, "Which is why we ended up enrolled in the Fruit-of-the-Month club." He waves his hand in the direction of the box of oranges on the kitchen counter, the selection for December.

Gwen laughs. "Percy and Vivian," she says, raising her eyebrows and waving the next card at him. "They sent a package. It's a toaster," she giggles.

Arthur looks at the card, reading the message inside. _Congratulations. We wish you much happiness and hope you'll be back to visit soon. Love, Percy Andersen and Vivian Johanssen._ There's also a crisp new business card inside bearing the name _Andersen Paper._

"They're gon' have some pretty blonde babies one day," Gwen chuckles, taking the card when Arthur hands it back. She looks at him. "What's on your mind, Baby?" she asks, stroking his cheek with her fingers. "Why're you home so early?"

"I talked to the realtor."

"Oh?" she asks, puzzled at Arthur's dark demeanor. Things had sounded so promising when they met with him the day before.

"He ain't gonna show us those houses."

"Ain't gonna? Like, he _won't?_"

Arthur nods.

"It's because of me…" she whispers, frowning, looking down at her fingers.

"No, Guinevere, don't say that. This is not your fault at all. Julius Borden and the company he works for are all idiots."

"Gaius recommended him… I don't understand…"

"Uncle has torn up Borden's Rolodex card. He's out of the fold. And we won't be using his services, obviously."

"So what do we do?"

Arthur takes her hands in his, gently unwinding them from where they were clasped tightly in her lap. He lifts them to his lips and kisses them both. "We build ourselves a house," he says.

"Build? Arthur… oh…" she gasps. "Really?"

He nods, grinning at her now. "Hand me my briefcase, please," he says.

She reaches behind her and hands it to him. He opens it and pulls out the number. "I left the office at 3:30 and went for a little drive," he says, waving the slip of paper in the air. "Would you like to see, or do you trust me? It's early enough I can still call today…"

"I trust you, but I kind of want to see…" she says, biting her lip.

"Guinevere," he says, leaning forward to kiss her, "there are three lots, and they're all overlooking the lake." He says this quietly, against her lips as he kisses her.

"The lake? The big lake? Lake Michigan?" she exclaims, pulling back. "You mean I'd get to look out my back windows and see the lake any old time I want?"

He nods, knowing he's just played his trump card. She throws her arms around his neck, squeezes him tightly, and kisses his cheek before standing suddenly.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Gettin' you the phone," she says, and he laughs.

xXx

After dinner, Arthur takes her up to where he saw the lots earlier. It's dark now, but she wanted to see. Arthur keeps a flashlight in his trunk, so he pulls that out and they walk around the frozen ground a bit, looking around.

"I hope no one calls the police," Gwen says.

"Guinevere, there's no one around at all," Arthur says, completely unconcerned. He looks up a moment. It's started to snow, just lightly, softly. Christmas snow, almost, like on a greeting card.

Gwen has walked a fair distance back, towards the lake. "No beach," she says. "I wasn't expectin' a cliff."

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, it would be _nice_ to have our own little beach, but… I do really like it," she says, turning towards him.

Arthur watches her, illuminated by the shaft of weak light from his flashlight, huddled in her parka with snowflakes landing in her hair. He smiles.

"What?"

"You look really cute right now, all bundled up, the snow in your hair," he says quietly, stepping towards her to kiss her cold lips.

"So do you have a preference?" he asks.

"For which lot?"

He nods.

"Whichever is the biggest," she grins. "Unless…"

"What?"

"Could be buy all three and then build in the middle?" she says, giggling.

"Well, we _could…_"

"Arthur, I'm kidding. That would be kind of selfish, wouldn't it? Hoggin' up all the lakefront."

"Oh. All I could think was, 'that's a lot of grass for me to mow.'"

Gwen laughs. "Let's get back in the car. I'm cold."

"The lake is very cold, you know," Arthur says. "I remember tryin' to swim in it a few times. You go under water and it's so cold it makes your head hurt."

"You're just tryin' to make me feel better about not havin' a beach," Gwen says, climbing back into the car when Arthur opens the door for her.

"No, it's the truth, you can ask Morgana if you don't believe me," Arthur says once he slides into the driver's seat. He turns the car on and cranks the heater. "Come over here," he motions her over and she slides across the seat. "Of course there are beaches for swimmin' here, and I promise we'll go next summer and you can judge for yourself," he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Okay," Gwen says, resting her head on his shoulder.

"And there are tons of smaller lakes we could go to that might not be as cold, if you find that Lake Michigan is too cold for your delicate little self," he teases, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Maybe we'll get a boat or something…"

Gwen looks up at him. "Let's work on gettin' a house first, all right?" she asks.

"Okay," he agrees, then he kisses her. "So you like the lots?"

"Mmm-hmm," she answers, kissing him now. "Call the developer back on Monday and find out which one is the biggest of the three."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, then he catches her lips fully, kissing her thoroughly, wrapping his arms around her.

They are so wrapped up in each other that they don't notice that a police car has pulled up and parked behind them until there is a knock at the window.

"Whoops," Arthur says, grinning.

Gwen bites her lip and nervously adjusts her scarf.

Arthur opens the window. "Sorry, officer, we were just leaving," he says.

"That's right, you were," the policeman agrees, peering into the car, shining his flashlight back and forth between them. "What's goin' on here?"

"Well, my _wife_ and I were just looking at these lots for sale. We're fixin' to buy one and build a house on it, and even though I _told_ her it was too dark to see much, she really wanted to see them, and, well, I guess we got a little carried away here in our excitement over havin' ourselves a house built."

_Man can sure talk,_ Gwen thinks, watching the policeman carefully, trying to not be nervous.

"Is that so?" the policeman says, skeptical. "You're married, then?" He raises an eyebrow.

"For nearly a week, yes," Arthur says, grinning. "See, rings and everything," he adds, holding up his left hand and then Gwen's. "Anything else I can help you with tonight, sir?"

_I would never dream of talkin' to a cop the way he does,_ Gwen says.

"What's your name, son?"

"Arthur Pendragon, sir. And this is my wife, Guinevere Pendragon."

"Hello," Gwen says.

"Pendragon. You related to that lawyer?"

"I am, and I am a lawyer myself. So I know you can't be keepin' us here for no reason, and since I really don't fancy gettin' myself a ticket for public urination, I'd appreciate it if you'd let us be on our way home."

_Don't laugh. Don't laugh._

"Oh. Um, yes, sorry. On your way, then. Good luck with the build," the officer says, stepping away from the car.

"Thank you, sir. Have a good night," Arthur says.

"You, too, Mr. Pendragon," the slightly bewildered policeman says as Arthur rolls up his window.

"What is it with you and the police?" Gwen asks once they are moving again.

"What do you mean?"

"The way you talk to them. Like you ain't afraid of them. Then all of a sudden they're the ones that are nervous."

"I'm not afraid of them. They're just people."

"To you, maybe. Of course, you have no reason to be afraid."

"True," he allows. "I mean, it helps to know the law inside and out, too, but I see your point loud and clear."

Gwen looks at him, furrowing her brow yet slightly amused.

"What?" Arthur asks, seeing the strange look she's giving him.

"You _see_ my point _loud_ and clear, Arthur? You can see sounds? Do you smell colors, too?"

Arthur laughs. "You know what I meant."

xXx

"We'll need to find a builder," Arthur says, tossing his keys in a dish by the door.

"Obviously," Gwen says, pulling her feet out of her shoes, stamping them a little in an attempt to warm them up.

"Maybe the developer will have a recommendation. I'm a little gun-shy of askin' Uncle now after the Julius Borden catastrophe," Arthur says. He hangs up his coat and then takes Gwen's coat and scarf to hang them up for her.

"We can ask him. Can't let one bad apple ruin the whole basket, Baby," she says, rubbing her arms.

"You cold, Guinevere?" Arthur asks, pulling her into his arms. She nods, snuggling him. "I can warm you up, you know," he purrs, nipping her ear.

"Mmm, I'm counting on it," she says, lifting her face to his to receive his kiss, immediately open-mouthed, his tongue searching for hers as she winds her arms around his neck.

His hands go roving, down to the hem of her sweater and back up again, on the inside, splaying his hands on her bare skin.

"Why are your hands always so warm?" she gasps, pulling her lips away. Arthur just keeps kissing, along her jaw and down her neck.

"Just lucky, I guess," he mutters, shoving at her sweater.

"Arthur, we're still in the livin' room," she whispers.

"I know," he says, untroubled. He reaches up blindly, groping for the lock on the door. He finds it and locks the door. "There," he declares, as if that's supposed to make her feel better.

"You're not goin' to…" she pauses as he pulls her sweater up over her head, "to take me to the bedroom?"

"No," Arthur says, kissing further down, dropping to his knees in front of her to open her jeans.

Gwen feels his lips press her stomach, placing warm, wet kisses there. She also feels her jeans being pulled down and she realizes that though she is standing in the living room in her underwear, she's not cold anymore.

Arthur helps her step out of her jeans and pulls her socks off as well, then he yanks his own clothes off and pulls her down to the sofa with him.

"On the sofa?" she asks.

"On the sofa, on the kitchen table, in the shower… again…" Arthur starts ticking off a list.

"Tonight?" Gwen asks, her eyes growing wide.

Arthur chuckles. "Maybe not _all_ tonight, but eventually."

Gwen giggles, reaching back to help Arthur with the clasp of her bra.

"Still need to get the hang of that," he mutters. "Guinevere," he says, his voice suddenly soft and husky, "surely you know that I want to make love to you anywhere and everywhere I can." He places soft kisses on her breasts, gently laying her back on the couch.

"Oh, Arthur…" she sighs, squirming under his attention, his words burning into her, heating her from the inside out. Arthur deftly slides her panties down, slipping them over her shapely legs. He kisses her shin on his way back up, then her knee, then her thigh. Then he pauses.

_Do I dare?_

He decides to go for it, kissing her thigh again, this time more on the inside, gently nudging her legs apart. He kisses the other one now, and she moves her legs, likely thinking he's going to keep making his way back up.

"Arthur! Oh Lord…"

Arthur smiles against her, feeling her hips jerk reflexively against his tongue's gentle exploration. He hears her hands pound lightly at the couch, looking for something to grab on to, hears the small, sweet cries and whimpers exiting her lips.

Gwen's fingers clutch at the cushions as her body arches, Arthur's tongue sliding around between her legs, circling that small sensitive button, driving her to the brink.

"Oh…" she moans, feeling the sensations building, her body starting to quiver.

Arthur kisses her softly one last time, then gently withdraws from her, kissing his way up her body now, settling between her legs as he does so.

"You stopped…" she gasps.

"Sorry," he says, but he is grinning because she liked it. "I… I don't know how to say it," he pauses, kissing her, "but I like when we… you know… together."

"Oh," she sighs, understanding. She kisses him deeper, wondering how she got so lucky.

Gwen reaches down for him, her fingers dancing over his skin before she grasps him. She strokes his length softly a few times before positioning him where they both want him.

Arthur slides easily into her with a groan, pausing a moment, just joined with his wife while they kiss softly for a few moments. Then he begins to move, slowly at first, building her back up, building both of them together, until she is gasping and writhing again.

"Ah… oh…" Gwen clutches Arthur's shoulders, pulling him closer as she winds her legs around him, wrapping herself around him as much as she can and still allow him to move.

He is thrusting quickly, carrying her with him to the edge, and when she plunges off, crying out his name in a hoarse whisper, he tumbles after with a groan, burying his face in her neck.

Arthur turns his head and kisses her neck, and she squeezes him.

"We're really gettin' good at this," he says after a moment.

Gwen laughs. "Well, we've had enough practice now, I think."

"Never have enough _practice_ with you, darlin'."

Gwen giggles and kisses his forehead because his head is still on her shoulder. "Can we go to the bedroom?" she asks, trying to move a bit.

"Oh, am I squashin' you?"

"A little," she admits.

xXx

"Arthur?" Gwen asks, her voice sleepy as she snuggles against him in their bed.

"Yes?"

"Can we get a Christmas tree tomorrow?"

"Of course we can," he answers, kissing the top of her head. "Do we have any ornaments?"

"I have some," she says.

"Well, we'll just have to go shopping, then. Gotta deck these halls for our first Christmas together," he says.

"Okay," Gwen says. _I have no idea what to get him for Christmas,_ she thinks.

_I know exactly what I'm going to get her for Christmas,_ Arthur smiles to himself.


	27. Chapter 27

"No, Mr. Alator, we don't need financing, we intend to buy the lot outright. Yes, that's correct."

Arthur taps his pencil on his calendar Monday morning as he listens to the land developer telling him that what he's doing is very unusual.

"Unusual, yes, but it's possible. I have the funds, I assure you."

He picks a piece of egg out from under his fingernail. _How did that get there?_ "Excellent. Today, if possible… The largest of the three lots, yes… Four o'clock? That should be fine."

"You'll bring the paperwork here? Great, my wife will appreciate that; she's still learnin' her way around some. Pendragon Law, downtown, yes. Oh, before I let you go, are there any builders you can recommend?"

He jots down the names Alator gives him, deciding he's going to cross-reference them with Gaius' recommendations.

"Thank you. See you at four."

Arthur presses the button to hang up the phone, keeping the receiver to his ear as he dials Guinevere.

She's very excited, and almost drops the phone.

"Oh, and he gave me the name of a few builders. I'll talk to Uncle and see who he recommends, and if any of them match up, we'll give them a call."

"That sounds good. Um…"

"Yes?"

"I just had a thought this mornin'. Why don't you call Mr. Helios, too, and see if he has any recommendations for builders? He wouldn't recommend someone like Mr. Borden, you can bank on that."

_Another phone call,_ Arthur thinks, but he knows she's right. "I'll do that. See you at four?"

"I'll be there at 3:45," she says.

"Even better," he smiles. "You remember how to get here?"

"_Yes,_ Arthur, I actually know my way around better than you realize. I don't stay home all day long on my days off, you know," she gently chides.

"Oh, right, sorry," he chuckles. "All right, darlin', I'm gonna go talk to Uncle and call Isaac. And then maybe I'll get around to preparin' this case I'm supposed to be workin' on."

"Yes, don't forget to earn your keep, Baby. You don't need to rush, you know. Don't neglect your job just 'cause you're excited about this house."

"I won't. Besides, once we get everything set, I'm puttin' you in charge."

"What?"

"Yep. Gotta go. See you this afternoon. Love you."

"Love you, too."

xXx

The one name in common between all three sources was Wagner Homes. Gaius assured Arthur that it was run by a lovely couple that treated people well. Helios informed him that they employ colored and white workers equally and pay them equally and fairly, based on experience and skill, not on skin color.

_He would know,_ Arthur allowed, once again humbled by his lack of connections in this town. _Yet. I'll get there._

He knows Guinevere will be happy with a company that treats people with fairness and equality. He's quite happy about that himself, in fact, and he calls them just before lunch.

"Wagner Homes, this is Isolde, may I help you?" a rich female voice answers the phone.

"Hello, Isolde, my name is Arthur Pendragon. My wife and I are interested in building a house, and we'd like to meet with you about making that happen."

"That is what we do, Mr. Pendragon," she says. He can hear the smile in her voice. He smiles himself, remembering that he said much the same thing to Guinevere, never hoping to dream that she'd wind up being his wife three months later.

"Do you have a lot?" she asks.

"We will after 4 p.m. today," he says. He tells her the address. He got the exact house number from Alator.

"Oh, yes, I know the place. Those are lovely lots. Can't beat lake view, right?"

"It's what sold my wife," Arthur says.

"I like your wife already, then," she answers. "When would you be able to come in?"

"Well, my wife and I can meet with you today, if you have an opening. Otherwise it might have to wait. She works Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I'm in court Wednesday."

He hears her flip through what surely must be an appointment book. "Booked solid today. Will you be done by Friday?"

"I'm hopin' to be, but all depends on how the trial goes, unfortunately. Put us down for Friday, and… wait something's just been handed to me. Oh. My court time has been pushed to eleven. If you can do Wednesday morning first thing, we can be there."

"Wednesday at nine will work for us," she says.

"All right. If we're not done by ten, I'll have to scoot, but Guinevere should be able to take care of everything by that point. That's my wife, Guinevere."

"I gathered that," Isolde chuckles at him. "Arthur and Guinevere Pendragon, nine a.m. Wednesday," she says, talking while she writes. "Do you have any ideas about what you're looking for, Mr. Pendragon? Just so I can pull some drawings."

"Something big. At least… four bedrooms. And a three-car garage."

"Oh… all right, I'll see what we can do. Perhaps you'd be interested in a custom home instead of going with one of our models?"

"Hmm, I like the sound of custom."

"I'll throw a few things together. You threw me with the three-car garage," she admits, laughing.

"Sorry about that," Arthur apologizes. "I can't wait to see."

"Um, can I ask what your price range is?" Isolde asks. "It will just help me with making preliminary plans, you know. Normally I wouldn't ask until we meet face to face, but you've forced the issue."

"Ah. Um, the thing with that is, well, we really don't have a price range," Arthur says. "And by that I mean that money is no object."

"Oh! Well. That should make things easy, then…" she answers, completely thrown.

"Good. Wednesday morning, then."

Arthur hangs up and sighs. _I am done making phone calls. Shoot. Got to make one more._

He rubs his ear and then picks up the phone again to call Gwen.

xXx

"Lunch, Arthur?" Morgana peeks into his office shortly after noon.

"Sure, you buying?"

"No, you are. Come on," she says. He laughs and follows her out.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of your company?" Arthur asks as they walk a few blocks to a diner they frequent.

"Haven't seen much of you since the wedding. You were off half of last week, and I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you or Gwen since Saturday. And let's face it, you two were pretty absorbed in each other on Saturday."

"Well, it _was_ our wedding day," Arthur says, shoving her lightly. They enter the diner and find a table.

"Yes, yes, I know. Did you like my gift?"

"Which one was yours again?" he asks, knowing perfectly well what it was.

"The fluffy red towels, including the monogrammed ones for decoration," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Oh yeah, those," Arthur grins. "They're very nice, actually. Very soft, thank you."

They order their usual cheeseburgers, Arthur's with bacon, Morgana's with extra cheese.

"So," Arthur says, "what was all that between you and Merlin?"

Morgana leans back in her seat. "I was wondering when you were going to bring that up."

"Well?"

"He's very sweet. Very talented. I like him a lot."

"I sense a 'but' coming."

"_But,_ we agreed that it wouldn't work. He doesn't want to move up here. I don't want to move down there. Not only that, I kissed him goodbye, and all I could think of was…" she trails off, not sure if she should voice the name to her cousin.

"Alvarr?" Arthur supplies.

"You've been talking to Gwen!" Morgana exclaims.

"Maybe I could see it with my own eyes," Arthur protests.

"Please," Morgana snorts. Their food arrives and Arthur digs in immediately. "You are the most clueless man in the free world," she continues. "When you visited the summer before you went to college, the neighbors' granddaughter Sharon was practically throwing herself at you all week and you were _completely_ oblivious."

"She was? I just thought she was friendly," he shrugs, his mouth full.

"Oh, my God, Arthur," she says, looking at the ceiling. "And Vivian Johanssen? I could hear it over the damn _telephone!_ It's a good thing Merlin steered her sights to that Andersen fellow so soon after you left or I wouldn't have been surprised if she would have shown up at the office looking for a job!"

"All right, all right, you've made your point," Arthur says, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you managed to nab Gwen," Morgana teases.

"Well, she wasn't throwing herself at me. In fact, she was trying to avoid me as much as she could. Romantically speaking."

"Ah, so that's the trick," Morgana says, chuckling. "Ignore you to get your attention."

"Well, that's not exactly how it went," Arthur is laughing now, too.

"I do realize that there was more involved, yes," Morgana says.

"You should talk to him," Arthur says after a bit.

"Who?"

"_Alvarr,_ genius."

"I talk to him all the time. He's as clueless as you."

"Heh. Try ignoring him, then."

"Maybe I should," she says, dipping a French fry into her ketchup.

"He might notice the change, if nothing else."

"Hmm."

"I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed that you and Merlin aren't going to work," Arthur admits.

"I would have killed him eventually," Morgana says, smirking.

Arthur laughs again. "Probably."

xXx

Gwen sits at the kitchen table, phone to her ear, a pencil and a pad of paper in front of her. She is alternately doodling and taking notes.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Barrett. I'll get my transcripts sent over to that address," she says. She glances at the clock. _3:30. This call is taking longer than I anticipated._ "They will? Great. In the meantime, can you send me a brochure or a course catalog so I can see what options I might have? Thank you very much."

Gwen stands and starts gathering her purse and keys. "Yes, the transcripts will be under the name Guinevere Thompson. I just got married… Thank you," she smiles. "All right, I will call them tomorrow and get that set in motion. Thank you for your time. Have a good afternoon," she says, trying not to hurry off the phone too much. She grabs her coat and flies out the door.

Arthur's head lifts at the soft knock at his office door. _Guinevere._ "Come," he beckons.

"Sorry I'm a little late," Gwen says.

"Only two minutes," Arthur says, standing and coming over to her. He takes her coat and hangs it up in a small closet within his office, then pulls her close for a kiss. "Hello," he purrs. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too. We're ridiculous," Gwen giggles, kissing him again.

"Ridiculously in love," he counters, leaning her backwards in his arms, dipping her and kissing her.

"Arthur, we're in your office," she reminds him.

"The door's closed."

"And Mr. Alator is gonna to be here in ten minutes."

"I could do a lot in nine minutes."

"Arthur!"

He straightens up and reluctantly loosens his grip.

"I talked to the university this afternoon," she says. She kisses his cheek and moves to sit in one of the guest chairs in his office.

"Oh?"

"Yes, tryin' to find out what I need to do to get certified to teach here. I need to get my transcripts from Memphis State sent over to UWM and…"

"So you really do want to go back to teaching?" Arthur interrupts.

"Well, yes, I told you that."

"I know you did, but I guess I wasn't sure if you were still goin' to pursue it."

"I'd like to. I know I don't need to work, but I do enjoy teaching," she says.

He smiles. "I would never stop you, you know that. The only thing I want is for you to be happy."

"Thank you," Gwen says, smiling at him. "So I've gotta get transcripts sent and then someone'll call me and tell me what courses I need to take. I should be able to work them around my current work schedule. I hope, anyway."

"You'll figure it out. You're a smart woman." Arthur's phone rings, and he reaches for it. "Yes? Okay, would you show him back? Thank you, Elena." He looks at Gwen. "Ready to buy a big square of dirt?"

xXx

Wednesday morning, Gwen's car gives her some trouble, but it starts and they make it to Wagner Homes at the appointed time.

Arthur wisely says nothing about the state of Tom's old car, just offers a silent prayer that she gets home safe in the quickly-deteriorating machine.

They enter a nicely-appointed office, which boosts their confidence. It's not some shack or trailer out in a field somewhere. The company is doing well.

"Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon?" a pretty blonde woman addresses them as they walk in.

"Yes, you must be Isolde," Arthur says, extending his hand. She shakes it.

"I am," she smiles, then shakes Gwen's hand.

"I recognized your voice," he says. Isolde smiles and leads them through a door.

"Tristan will be with us momentarily. He's the one you'll need to talk to; I'm just the lowly assistant."

"Oh, I'm sure he would be lost without you," Arthur says knowingly, thinking of Hunith and his father.

"Indeed I would," a male voice speaks. They turn to see a tall, blonde man, older than Isolde but appearing to be in excellent shape, striding in with a large portfolio under his arm. "Tristan Wagner," he introduces himself.

"Arthur Pendragon," Arthur says. He waits until Tristan unloads onto a table, then shakes the man's hand. "And yes, before you ask, I am related to 'that lawyer guy.'"

Tristan laughs. "Get that a lot, do you?"

"Only in the month or so we've been here," he says, chuckling as well. "My wife, Guinevere," Arthur introduces.

"Gwen," Gwen corrects automatically, shaking Tristan's hand.

"Please, sit. Coffee?"

"I'd love some," Arthur says.

"Mrs. Pendragon?" Isolde asks.

"No thank you," Gwen says.

"Can I get you something different? Tea? Orange juice?"

"Water would be lovely, thank you. Don't go to any trouble, now."

"Mr. Pendragon, cream, sugar?"

"Black, thanks."

Isolde disappears and Tristan begins speaking. "So, Isolde has told me that you're looking for something big. Four bedrooms at least, three-car garage, I believe is what she said."

"Three?" Gwen asks, looking at Arthur. He grins sheepishly, and she narrows her eyes at him. "You're gonna buy yourself another Corvette, ain't you?"

"I miss it," he admits. "And if I buy one up here, it's goin' to need to stay indoors during the cold weather months. And for that, we need garage space."

"We could park one of the other…"  
"Darlin', what's the point of havin' a garage if you can't put your cars inside it? I'm not spendin' all this money so one of us can park _outside_ in the winter."

Gwen thinks a moment. _Damn, he's got a point. He's really been thinking about this, too._ "Fine, you win. But _I_ want one o' those garages that's attached to the house, then, so we don't have to go out in the weather after parkin' in the garage to get to the house," she declares.

Tristan watches the two of them with a look of knowing amusement on his face. "We can certainly do that, Mrs. Pendragon," he says. "And three-car garages are a bit unusual, but it's definitely doable as well. It'll likely have to be a two-car door and a one-car, or three separate single doors, depending on the design. They don't make three-car garage doors; they'd be much too wide."

Isolde returns with black coffee for Arthur, water for Gwen, and coffee that looks nearly half cream for Tristan. She disappears again, to a desk in the front.

Tristan first shows them some model designs, explaining how they'd have to customize to meet their needs. There is one that appeals to Gwen, and they set it aside.

"And I drew these up as well," Tristan says, showing them some much rougher design plans. "If you were interested in a custom design."

"Yes, very much," Arthur says, leaning in.

He has two options for them, both lovely, both huge. Five bedrooms. Large kitchen, large living room. One has a two-sided fireplace. Three bathrooms.

"Oh, I want one of those master bedrooms that has its own bathroom," Arthur says. "Do either of these have that?" He leans in and studies the floor plans.

"They both do," Tristan says, pointing. "Two sinks, one for you, one for her."

"I like that," Gwen says. Arthur gives her a pouty look. "I'm already tired o' brushin' my teeth into your whisker trimmings," she declares.

They pore over the designs a bit more, and Arthur glances at his watch. "Oh. I need to go; I'm due in court in an hour," he says, standing. "Guinevere, you pick whatever you want. As long as I have my big garage and my private bathroom, I'm happy. And if you're happy, I'm overjoyed."

"Good luck in court, Baby," Gwen says, kissing him quickly and shyly when he bends down to her upturned face.

"I'll call you later," he says. "Tristan, she's in charge," Arthur nods, grinning.

"They always are, my friend," Tristan chuckles, shaking Arthur's hand. Arthur dashes out the door and they hear him quickly say goodbye to Isolde out front.

"So, Mrs. Pendragon," Tristan starts.

"Gwen, please," she interrupts him.

"All right. Gwen, is there one you prefer over the other? Oh, and do you prefer these over the model that you liked?"

"I do like these better than the model, yes," Gwen says. "I like the idea, too, of havin' somethin' that's uniquely ours, somethin' that no one else has."

Tristan looks at her a moment. "Where are you two from, anyway? I hear the accent, and I keep getting distracted and forget to ask."

"Memphis," Gwen says. "We've been here about a month and a half."

"And how long have you been married?"

"About a week and a half," she says, smiling. "And yes, before you ask, we moved up here special so we could get married. It ain't legal down there, you know. Marryin' outside your race."

"You seem like you've been together a very long time, the way you act together. If you don't mind my saying. Isolde and I have been married ten years, so I'm only talking from personal experience," he says with a smile.

"We met at the end of August. This year," Gwen laughs.

"You're kidding."

"We've been through a lot together."

"I can imagine," he says. She doesn't elaborate, so he forges on with business. "So, do you have a preference?" He points to the plans again. She studies them both, flipping to the front view, then to the interior layouts, scowling in concentration.

"I like this one," she finally declares, pointing to the second one, with the two-sided fireplace. "But…"

"Yes?" he asks.

She flips back to the front view. "The front needs somethin'. I know you said these were rough drawings, but… You know what I love? I love those Tudor style houses, with the beams…"

Tristan looks at the drawing. He turns it towards him a moment, studying it, his hand over his mouth, thinking. "You have a good eye, Gwen…" he mutters through his fingers. Then he reaches for a pencil and makes some changes to the front, drawing a few details. He spins the design back to face Gwen.

She smiles. "Yes. And some stone… there." She points.

Tristan furrows his brow and spins the design back. He stares at it. "Do you want a job?" he asks. Gwen just laughs.

xXx

Arthur wins his case and wins some recognition in the civil rights community. Gwen makes several trips back and forth to the builder's office, and they finally get the plans nailed down. Tristan even calls the design "The Guinevere" in Gwen's honor, since she had so much input in the final version. She allowed it only after he promised not to build it for anyone else.

The week before Christmas, Arthur comes home to find Gwen asleep on the couch, curled up in his Harvard sweatshirt that she has commandeered as her own. He can smell pot roast. He peeks in the oven, and it looks fine, perfect, actually, and he turns the oven off, leaving the roast inside.

"Guinevere," he says softly, kissing her temple and brushing a lock of her hair away from her face.

"Mmm," she mumbles, scrunching her shoulders.

"Guinevere, darlin', wake up," he says, kissing her again. "I turned off the oven." _I don't want her to think I'm waking her just so she can finish cooking my dinner._

She sits bolt upright. "Oh no! The roast!" she exclaims, suddenly wide awake.

"It's fine," he says, sitting beside her now. "I checked it, and it's not burnt or anything."

"I don't know why I fell asleep… I was just so worn out," she says.

"Didn't sleep well last night?" he asks, wrapping his arm around her.

"No, I slept fine," she says, resting her head on his shoulder. "I hope I'm not comin' down with something."

"Me, too. Don't want to be sick at Christmas," he says.

"Definitely not. I'm supposed to sing on Christmas Eve, you know. A solo."

"I remember. I'm lookin' forward to it," he says, smiling.

She stands. "You're probably hungry," she says.

"Take your time, I'm fine," he answers, pulling his tie from his neck.

"I'm starving," she says.

Two days later, just after Arthur leaves for work, Gwen's breakfast leaves her stomach the way it came in.

"Dammit, I am gettin' sick," she mutters, sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for another wave. Another wave doesn't come, and she realizes she feels better. _Did I eat something bad?_ She goes into the kitchen and checks the milk. Doesn't expire for several more days. _I know dinner was fine last night. I'll call Arthur in a bit when he's at the office and see how he's feeling._

She knows she has to go to Wagner Homes today, and glances at the calendar to confirm the time. Then she stares at the calendar. She stares for a long time. She flips back to November, trying to remember exactly when…

Gwen counts. She counts again. She counts a third time. Then she goes back to the bathroom and pees, checking.

_Could I be? Already?_

_ Well, we have been… nearly every night since we were married…_ She blushes at the thought.

She dazedly walks back to the kitchen, picks up the phone, and dials.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Aunt Alice, this is Gwen."

"Gwen, nice to hear your voice!" Alice exclaims. "But something's wrong. What's wrong, dear?"

_Can't hide anything from her._ "Well, nothing's wrong, exactly. I don't think. I'm not sure…"

_It's a blessing, if I am, but it's still a worry, for several reasons._

"What is it, dear? You're scaring me a little now."

"Can you recommend a doctor?" Gwen blurts.

"A doctor! Are you sick?"

"Not exactly sick. More like… late."

"Already?"


	28. Chapter 28

_"Gwen! You got the results back?" Alice asked, her voice full of hope._

_ "Yes, the nurse just called," Gwen answered. "It's positive."_

_ "Oh, that's wonderful!" Alice squealed, immediately excited. "Why don't you sound happy, dear?" she asked, realizing that Gwen is strangely silent on the other end._

_ "I am, but… I'm a little overwhelmed. I wasn't expectin' to be, well, expecting so soon… Though I guess I really shouldn't be surprised, what with the frequency that Arthur and I… oh. You prob'ly don't wanna hear 'bout that…"_

_ Alice laughed then. "I remember what it's like to be a newlywed, dear. Even after this long. But there's something else troubling you."_

_ "Well, this baby is gonna be mixed, which is goin' to bring its own set o' troubles," Gwen said, twirling the phone cord around and around her finger._

_ "Gwen. If any two people can handle the difficulties that might come from bringing a mixed race child into this world, it's you and Arthur. You've weathered so much just to be together; don't lose hope now. You owe it to yourselves and to that baby's future to continue to be strong and fight for what is right in this world."_

_ "Thank you, Alice. That means a lot to hear."_

_ "It's the truth, Gwen. And every child comes with its own set of problems, no matter what color he is," Alice laughed._

_ Gwen chuckled a little now, too. "Thanks. I do feel better. Um, Alice?"_

_ "Yes, dear?"_

_ "You didn't tell Uncle Gaius, did you?"_

_ "No. I almost did, but something stopped me."_

_ "Can we keep this between us right now? I already feel bad that Arthur isn't the first to know."_

_ "Of course, dear, I won't say a word. Not to Gaius, not to Morgana. This is your news to tell, and Arthur definitely deserves to know first. I understand that the only reason you told me is because you needed a recommendation for a doctor," she chuckled._

_ "Thank you, Alice."  
_

_"When are you going to tell him?"_

_ "I was actually thinkin' it might be a nice Christmas surprise."_

"Guinevere, are you all right? You seem a little distracted," Arthur says at dinner that Friday, snapping Gwen out of her thoughts, replaying that afternoon's phone call to Alice.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry," she says.

"Still not feeling well?" he asks, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "You don't seem feverish."

"I'm all right. Just thinking about the house," she lies. _I feel bad lying, but I don't want to give it away. I can make it till Wednesday. Really, I can._

_ Maybe._

"I thought it was going well," he says, puzzling.

"It is. I was just doing a little mental decorating," she says with a smile. She stands and takes their plates to the sink. _Mentally decorating a nursery._

Arthur comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. "I did tell you that I love how the plans turned out, didn't I?"

"A couple times. Can you bring the rest over?"

"Okay," he says, nipping her ear once before going to get the rest of the dishes from the table. "It's a shame that we have to wait until March to break ground," he sighs. "Too much snow, ground too frozen."

"I know," she agrees. "If we were in Memphis, that wouldn't be a problem."

"If we were in Memphis, we wouldn't be married," Arthur counters, taking up his trusty dishtowel.

_If we were in Memphis, I wouldn't be carrying your child,_ Gwen adds mentally.

Gwen washes, Arthur dries and puts away. He learned very quickly that Gwen hates drying dishes.

"I want one of those automatic dishwashers in the new house," Gwen declares, scrubbing a pan, scowling.

"Definitely," Arthur agrees, pulling open the silverware drawer to drop in the cutlery.

Dishes cleaned, Gwen goes to wipe down the table while Arthur puts the last dishes away. She is leaning over the table, wiping the surface with a dishcloth, when she feels Arthur sneak up behind her, pressing against her, leaning into her.

"Arthur…"

His hand slides down over her backside. "Well, stop pointin' this round little thing at me…" he teases, his lips brushing her ear as he speaks.

"It ain't exactly little," she argues.

"Hush. It's perfect," he says, giving it a squeeze before turning her in his arms so she is facing him. He gently takes the dishcloth from her hand and tosses it across the kitchen and into the sink.

"Nice shot," she says, just before his mouth covers hers, kissing her passionately, deeply. She feels the edge of the table against her hips as he leans over her. His tongue slides along hers, exploring her mouth.

He pulls away for a moment, picks her up, and sits her on the table.

"Arthur!" she squeals, surprised. Arthur grins and pushes his way forward, between her knees, sliding her skirt up as he presses closer.

The first thing Gwen does when she gets home, if she is wearing a skirt or dress, is take off her shoes. The second thing is take off her nylons, even if it's cold. Arthur's grin broadens as he slides his hands over the soft bare skin of her legs, dipping his head to kiss her again.

"You are terrible," she gasps, leaning her head back as he kisses down her neck, his hands now working the buttons on her blouse.

"Terrible?"

"Did I say terrible?" she says, her voice a husky whisper as she reaches for his belt. "I meant wonderful…"

"Better," he rumbles, slipping his hands into her opened blouse to reach for the clasp on the back of her bra. "Wait, this doesn't work…" he mumbles, pushing her shirt off so he can remove her bra while she giggles at him.

He leans forward and takes a stiffened nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as he slips a hand up under her skirt. One of Gwen's slippers falls off her foot and lands on the linoleum with a soft slapping sound.

Gwen giggles and kicks off the other one, then wraps her legs around Arthur, pulling him closer. Then she uses her feet to shove at his opened pants until they drop to the floor.

"Talented," Arthur mutters, a bit impressed.

"I can pick things up off the floor with them, too," she answers, cupping his face between her hands to kiss him as he chuckles at her.

His other hand worms its way under her skirt and with a little tugging and wiggling, her panties hit the floor. Arthur steps out of his pants and a moment later, his underwear joins Gwen's.

"I'm gonna have to clean this table again," she gasps as he touches her, drawing more small, sweet gasps from her.

"It was on the list," Arthur reminds her, placing wet, sucking kisses on her neck. Her fingers find him now, stroking his length, pulling him closer with one hand while the other clings to his neck, holding herself upright.

"Oh…" Gwen moans as Arthur presses his hips forward, entering her slowly, sliding out and back in again, torturing them both.

Her head drops back momentarily and Arthur runs his tongue along the column of her neck from the hollow of her throat up to her jaw, kissing his way up to her ear, which he nibbles a little.

"Faster," she whispers, her hand in his hair, her legs around his waist.

"Taking my time," he says, smiling against her ear.

"_Faster,_" she urges, pulling his hair.

_Wow,_ Arthur thinks. He moves faster.

She moans again, scraping her nails lightly on his scalp.

"Oh… Guinevere…" Arthur groans, loving how bold she's getting, discovering he kind of likes this take-charge side of her.

"Oh… harder…"

He doesn't argue this time and thrusts harder. The table scoots on the floor and Gwen giggles again for just a moment before it turns into a whimper.

"Arthur," she moans his name, clinging to him. "Oh, Lord… oh…" Gwen clamps her legs tight around him, crying out as she comes, nearly lifting off the table.

Arthur grunts, thrusting a few more times before he follows, his arms tight around her, his face in her neck.

Gwen relaxes, releasing him from her grip and he slides gently back. He kisses her nose.

"I love you so much," he says quietly, leaning his forehead against hers in that way he has.

"I love you, too, Baby," she answers, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "I should get down off of this table."

He helps her down, and her skirt falls down to her knees. "This is an interesting look," Gwen says, looking down at herself, clad only in the skirt. She grabs her shirt and puts it on, not buttoning it but just holding it closed. Scooping up her undergarments, she heads to the bedroom. "I'm going to put my pajamas on. You clean the table."

Arthur laughs, pulling his underwear on but not his pants. He goes to the sink and grabs the dishcloth.

"Use hot water!" Gwen yells, knowing he'd likely just wipe it down again without re-wetting the cloth.

Arthur scowls. "How does she do that?" he mutters, turning on the faucet to get the water hot.

xXx

By Sunday afternoon, Gwen cannot stand it any more. _Three more days. Christmas is Wednesday. You can make it to Wednesday._

_ But I don't want Arthur to keep asking me if I'm sick. And it's killin' me to not tell him._

"Guinevere?" Arthur asks, interrupting her thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You were singin', and then you just stopped. You okay?"

_Hell with it._

"I want to give you one of your Christmas gifts, Arthur," she says, standing.

"What? Now? Why now?" Arthur puzzles, watching her walk into the hall, to the closet. She returns with a box, about the size of a shoebox.

"You'll understand when you open it," she says, sitting beside him. She places the box in his lap.

"Okay…" he says, tearing the paper with the abandon of a child. Gwen laughs at him.

It is a shoebox. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"It's just the box. I didn't buy you ladies' shoes."

He chuckles and opens the box to find some soft, pale green material. He pulls it out and unfolds it, and when he does this, another small parcel falls in his lap. It makes noise. He forgets the material a moment as he lifts the small, irregularly-shaped gift, pondering it.

Gwen bites her lip, nervous and also trying not to laugh at the fact that he hasn't realized that the green thing is a baby blanket.

He tears through the paper and stares at the object in his hand. It is red and green, a round handle at one end and a ball on the other, connected by a thin strip of plastic. On the ball are the words _Baby's first Christmas._

Time seems to stop as Gwen stares at Arthur staring at the rattle.

Then he gives it a tiny shake, and it makes a soft rattling noise. The corners of his lips turn upwards into the tiniest smile. He looks at her and just whispers, "Really?"

She nods, afraid to speak. Afraid to breathe. His hand drops down and he rubs the blanket between his thumb and forefinger, suddenly realizing what it is.

"Really?" he asks again, his voice breaking slightly this time.

She nods again. "Can you say something besides 'really?'" she whispers.

He shakes his head no, reaching for her and holding her tightly to him, burying his face in her hair.

It is then, when she feels him tremble slightly, hears his breath hitch, that she realizes he is crying.

"Are those happy tears?" she asks, still whispering. She feels him nod against her neck and squeeze her even tighter.

"The happiest," he finally manages, still hiding in her hair. He sniffles.

"Don't be gettin' no snot in my hair, now," Gwen says, her breath hitching a watery laugh.

He leans back finally, and she wipes his tears. "I love you so much, Arthur," she says quietly.

He pecks her lips lightly. "I love you so much, too. Heh. I guess we shouldn't really be _too_ surprised," he says, kissing her softly. "We have been rather… busy…"

"I realized that, once the shock wore off," Gwen says, blushing.

"So this is why you've been so distracted? How long have you known?"

"Found out officially on Friday. But that's why I've been so tired lately. And then last Wednesday I threw up right after you left for work. Thought I was sick; then I looked at the calendar and it hit me."

"So you've been to the doctor?" he asks, holding her hands, the rattle resting on the blanket, still in Arthur's lap.

"Just to get tested. I have an appointment the day after Christmas," she says. "Um, Alice helped me find a doctor…" she admits.

"Oh. So she knows, then," he says, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Only because I didn't want to just randomly choose a doctor, Baby, honest. And I swore her to secrecy. She didn't even tell Gaius."

"I understand," he nods.

"I really wanted you to be the first to know. I suppose I didn't have to tell you that Alice already knew, but I didn't like keepin' that from you any more than I liked keepin' the news itself from you. That's why I had to give you this now," she says, running her hand over the blanket. "I couldn't stand it any more."

"Yeah, I suppose it probably was pretty hard to keep in," he says, smiling now.

"I don't want to tell everyone just yet, though. At least not until we've seen the doctor, anyway. I can't be that far along, so things could still, you know… happen…"

"Shh, don't even think those thoughts, darlin'." He wraps his arms around her reassuringly. "We'll see the doctor and he'll tell us that everything is perfect. That the baby is perfect, just like his mama."

"Or _her_ mama."

Arthur's eyes grow wide. "Oh, God, a girl…" he gasps. Gwen realizes he's not lamenting the possibility of not having a son; he's overwhelmed by the thought of a daughter.

_A daughter would have him wrapped around her little finger so fast…_

xXx

"I'm just gonna work till noon today, then I'll be home," Arthur tells Gwen over breakfast. "For the week. Takin' Thursday and Friday off, too. I want to go to the doctor with you."

"They may not let you in," she says. "He's probably goin' to be checkin' me… down below."

"Well, I am an expert in that area, you know," he teases.

"Arthur!" she swats him with the dishcloth. "Somehow I don't think the doctor will be welcomin' your particular brand of expertise."

"Still goin' with."

"We'll see. You may have to wait outside during the actual exam, though."

"Fair enough," Arthur says, standing and bringing his bowl to the sink. He starts washing it and Gwen shoos him away.

"I'll do this. You'll be late otherwise," she says.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, cupping her cheek with his hand.

"A little tired, but okay. It helped that you had grits and not eggs this morning. They smell funny to me right now."

"Really? That's odd."

She shrugs. "I'll probably take a little nap later. Someone kept me up too late last night."

"We were celebratin'," he grins.

"Yes, what was it you said? 'Reenactin' the event that caused the need to celebrate.'"

Arthur just grins broader and leans down to kiss her goodbye.

"Stow that silly grin, Pendragon, or people are goin' to think you've gone simple," she calls after him. She can hear his guffaw as he closes the door.

_Definitely getting her the right thing for Christmas,_ Arthur decides in the elevator.

xXx

Christmas Eve, Arthur waits until Gwen is in the shower, then dashes downstairs to the parking lot. He returns just as Gwen is emerging from the bathroom, so he quickly plops down on the sofa and grabs the newspaper.

"You were outside," Gwen says casually.

"What? Don't be silly," Arthur says, surprised, trying to sound innocent.

Gwen passes by him and runs her fingers through his hair, dislodging some quickly-melting snowflakes.

_Shit._ "Oh, um…"

"I don't need to know," she says. "It's Christmas and I trust you."

_She is always a half a step ahead of me._ "You'll find out soon enough," he says. "When your hair is dry. Don't want you catchin' cold, not with the baby and not with your solo tonight."

"Solos," she corrects, sitting down and turning the newspaper right-side-up.

_I am so bad at this cloak-and-dagger stuff, _Arthur realizes. "More than one?"

"Yes, Alan somehow roped me into another one. I was just doin' the one with the choir, but then he wanted me to do another, all by myself, during the offering."

"He likes your voice, darlin'. We all do."

"I agreed on the condition that I could pick the song," she grins. "Gonna go all southern gospel on you poor unsuspecting northerners."

"What did you pick?"

"_I Wonder as I Wander._"

"Nice," Arthur nods, smiling.

"I wish Merlin were here to play it with me. He'd do it up right."

"Oh, Lord, Merlin! He's gonna lose his mind when we tell him the news!" Arthur laughs.

A short time later, Arthur bundles Gwen up in her parka and scarf and leads her to the elevator.

"Where are we going?" Gwen asks.

"To get your Christmas gift," Arthur says. "As if you didn't know that."

"I didn't want to assume."

The elevator dings and the doors open. Arthur leads her into the lobby. "Can I trust you to keep your eyes closed or do I need to blindfold you with your scarf?"

"I can keep my eyes closed. We don't want people thinkin' you're kidnappin' me," she chuckles.

"All right, close your eyes."

She does, and she feels him take her hand and tuck it into his elbow. He slowly walks her outside.

_I think I know what he got me,_ Gwen thinks, but plays along anyway.

"Okay," he whispers close in her ear. Gwen opens her eyes to see a brand new light blue Impala parked in her space.

She gasps and her gloved hands cover her mouth. Tom's car is gone.

"I know that was your daddy's car," Arthur says quietly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "But it was startin' to get unreliable."

Gwen still stares, conflicted. _It's a beautiful car. And he's right, Daddy's car was getting harder and harder to start. Plus there were a few other things I hadn't told him about._ "Thank you, Arthur," she finally says, reaching over to his hand on her shoulder.

"If you don't like this particular one, Frank says that all we have to do is bring it on back and you can pick out whatever you want."

"Except Daddy's car," she says, smiling a little, attempting to joke.

"I know, darlin'. It's hard. I'm sorry it had to go, but…"

"You don't have to explain, Baby, I understand. It's just a thing, anyway," she says, stepping forward now to run her hand across the top of the car. "Daddy would rather have me safe than hang on to his car out of stubborn sentimentality."

"Your daddy would rather have _both_ of you safe," Arthur says, putting his hand on her stomach. Gwen hardly feels it through her thick coat, but she appreciates the attempt. He's been preoccupied with her stomach since Sunday, and she doesn't think it's going to get any better any time soon.

"Do you like it?" Arthur asks cautiously.

"I do," Gwen says. "Thank you." She turns to face him and leans up to kiss him. He wipes the one tear that fell from her cheek.

"Do you want to go and see if there's anything you like better?"

"Today? It's Christmas Eve!"

"Frank said he'd go in if you wanted to pick something else," Arthur says.

"Frank's decisions are led by his wallet," Gwen says, chuckling.

"He's not married," Arthur offers by way of explanation.

"Right. But no, I like this car. I do appreciate the fact that you got another Impala. Trying to soften the blow, maybe?" she asks, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Maybe a little," he grins.

"Can we take it for a drive?"

xXx

Gwen's solos are the talk of the late Christmas Eve service, but Gwen is exhausted being up so late now that she's pregnant. Church lets out at midnight, and Gwen falls asleep on the way home.

"Take good care of her," Alice had whispered in Arthur's ear when he hugged her and wished her Merry Christmas.

"I will," he answered softly. Then, louder, he asked, "What time tomorrow again?"

"Noon, silly," Alice laughed. "Take your wife home, Arthur, she looks exhausted."

Arthur pulls his car into its space and turns off the engine. He looks over at Gwen. She's sleeping soundly, so he exits the car and moves around to the passenger side. He opens her door and gently slips his arms around her, lifting her very carefully from the car.

She mumbles a protest, but settles back in, unconsciously nuzzling his neck.

_I hope people don't think I'm doing anything shady,_ Arthur thinks. He gets to the doors of the building and stares at them.

_Shit._

"Let me get that for you, Arthur," Mr. Peplinski, their neighbor across the hall, comes to his rescue just as he is trying to reach for the door with the hand under Gwen's knees.

"Thanks, Harry," Arthur says quietly.

"Is she all right?" Mrs. Peplinski asks.

"Sleepin' like a log," Arthur answers. "Late church service."

"We're just coming from mass ourselves," Harry says. He pushes the elevator button.

Evie smiles. "Harry would have just woken me up," she chuckles. They are all speaking softly, so as not to disturb Gwen.

"That's because I have a bad back," Harry protests. "I'm too old to be sweeping you off your feet now."

"She's a lucky girl," Evie says, smiling fondly now.

"I'm the one who is lucky," Arthur says. The elevator doors open and they all exit.

"Merry Christmas," Harry says, taking Arthur's keys from where he had them clutched in his hand and unlocking their door for them.

"Thanks again. Merry Christmas to you, too," Arthur says. Harry sets the keys down on a small table just inside the door and then goes to his own already-open door.

"Ah, Guinevere, my love, what am I goin' to do with you?" Arthur asks softly. He carries her through to the bedroom and lays her on the bed. He pulls her shoes and coat off and gradually, carefully, undresses her.

_Good thing her hair is already braided. I don't know how to do that._ He awkwardly pulls one of her flannel nightgowns over her head, bringing another whimper from her. She opens her eyes for a second and looks at him, confused.

"Go back to sleep, darlin'," he whispers, kisses her softly, and tucks her into bed. Arthur pads back out to the living room, puts a small, wrapped box under the tree, and heads back to the bedroom, not even noticing the large, flat gift leaning against the wall, tucked behind the tree.

He strips to his underwear and climbs into bed, curling up behind Gwen, who is now on her side.


	29. Chapter 29

Gwen stirs and wakes, blinking her eyes open. _How did I get here? I remember leaving church, and that's it._ She looks down. _I'm in my nightgown._ Arthur's arm is wrapped around her waist and she can hear him snoring softly behind her. She reaches back and puts her hand on his hip, feeling that he's in his usual sleeping attire of underwear.

One of the first things Gwen learned about Arthur after they were married is that the only reason he was wearing pajama pants to sleep at Gaius' house was because he was around other people. He prefers to sleep in his underwear. If that.

_"Don't you get cold?" she had asked._

_ "That's what blankets are for. And you," he said, pulling her close._

They've since discovered that despite his state of undress, Arthur is the one keeping Guinevere warm most nights.

Gwen sighs and cuddles down into the covers. Arthur squirms a little and tightens his arm around her in his sleep.

_What time is it?_ She looks at the clock. _7:12. I can sleep longer if I want._ She closes her eyes.

_I should make some breakfast for Arthur. Biscuits and gravy. Bacon. Maybe scrambled eggs. Gotta make sure to get to Gaius and Alice's in enough time so I can help with dinner. Do not forget the whipped cream for the pies! I hope they like the sweet potato pie… wait, they had it at Thanksgiving. Silly. Maybe I should have made two. I wonder what time I should call Elyan? I don't want to wake him._

Gwen's eyes open again. 7:15. _This is pointless._ She slips out from Arthur's grasp and out of bed. She puts her slippers and robe on, sighs when she sees the heaps of clothing on the floor, scoops them up, and puts them in the hamper in the bathroom.

"Honestly, Arthur, you couldn't even put the clothes away?" she mutters to herself.

She shuffles into the kitchen and starts cooking, flipping the radio on softly for some Christmas music.

"Merry Christmas, darlin'," Arthur's voice startles her some time later. Absorbed in making gravy, Gwen jumps slightly.

"How long you been standin' there?" she asks, turning and smiling at him.

"Not too long," he says, walking over.

"Arthur, put some pants or a robe on or somethin'," Gwen admonishes. "I don't want your nekkid backside in my kitchen."

"I'm not _nekkid,_ I got undies on," he protests.

She puts her hands on her hips and gives him a look usually reserved for Elyan.

"All right, I'll be right back," he says, holding his hands up. When he returns a few minutes later in striped pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, she finally lets him come over and kiss her good morning.

"Merry Christmas, Baby," Gwen says. "I'm almost done makin' breakfast."

"We can't do presents first?" he asks, pouting.

"Are you six years old? You want your breakfast to be hot, don't you?"

He looks around. Biscuits sitting on a tray on top of the stove, just out of the oven. Bacon frying up crisp in the pan. Gravy waiting to be poured over biscuits.

Arthur's stomach growls loudly, and Gwen laughs. He sits at the table and she gives him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," he says. A minute later, Gwen is joining him, putting his plate in front of him and the gravy bowl on the table.

"I don't know how you like your biscuits and gravy, so…"

"That's fine, I am more than capable of fixing them myself." Gwen watches as he splits his biscuits and butters them lightly before drowning them in gravy.

"Butter _and_ gravy? Arthur, you are gon' have a heart attack before you're 40, eatin' like that."

"What? It's not like you make this every day. And it's Christmas."

Gwen chuckles and starts to dig into her breakfast. After three bites, her hunger turns to nausea and she excuses herself to the bathroom.

Arthur frowns after her, wishing there was something he could do. "Okay, Guinevere?" he asks when she returns, frowning.

"Disappointed," she says, reaching into the fridge for some 7-Up she had bought special for such occasions. "I had such a hankerin' for biscuits and gravy."

"Can't you try again?"

"In a bit. Gotta let things settle down a bit. Glad I didn't make eggs, too. I think the smell alone would have set me off even sooner. Lord, I hope this don't last long."

"Is it every morning?"

"No, thankfully. I haven't been able to figure out if there's a pattern or a… a trigger yet." She pokes a corner of biscuit with her fork, a bit with no gravy on, and delicately puts it in her mouth.

Arthur reaches over and squeezes her hand, then lifts it to his lips and kisses it. "Sorry," he says.

"Not your fault… oh, wait, it is, isn't it?" she says, grinning impishly at him.

Arthur smiles at her, then suddenly stands and goes to the living room, returning a moment later with the small box he had placed under the tree last night.

"Arthur, what on earth? You bought me a car, I don't need nothin' else," she says, looking at the box.

"It's just little, no big deal," he says, waving his hand dismissively.

She eyes him. _No big deal, right. If this ain't jewelry, I'll eat my bathrobe._ She lets that go, but smirks at him and says, "Is openin' gifts at the kitchen table somethin' you do in your family?"

Arthur laughs. "No, I just couldn't wait. I actually like givin' gifts more than gettin' them. Sometimes."

"Oh really? Then you must be positively jumpin' outta your skin. I saw how you tore into that gift I gave you Sunday," Gwen says, taking the small box and unwrapping it neatly.

Arthur laughs again. "You're one of those neat people. I suppose you fold up the paper to use it again?"

"When you don't have much, you save everything, Arthur. It's just what I'm used to," Gwen reminds him gently.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"It's all right, I know you forget sometimes." Gwen opens the box to see a pair of diamond earrings nestled inside. They are simple stud earrings, nothing ostentatious or showy, almost everyday earrings. If they didn't have gorgeous glittering diamonds. "Oh, Arthur, they're beautiful," she says. "I've never had real diamond earrings. I don't think anyone in my family has."

"Will you wear them today?"

"Of course I will," she smiles at him, setting the box gently on the table. "Are you done eating?"

He nods, picking up his plate and cup and taking them to the sink. Gwen sighs at her plate, hating to waste food, but there's really nothing for it. She sets the plate on the counter and declares that they'll clean up later.

"I want to give you your gift now," she says.

"You gave me your gift already," he says, running his hands over her stomach.

"I have another one. One that you don't have to wait nine months for. I had it in the works before I found out I was pregnant."

"Well, since you went to all the trouble," he says, plopping down on the couch. She starts to pull the heretofore-unnoticed large flat parcel out from behind the tree. Arthur jumps up and takes it, afraid it's heavy.

"Eager," she comments.

"It looks heavy, and I don't want you liftin' it," he says, defending his position. He lifts it and finds that it is heavy. He peers at her. "How did you get this up here?"  
She puts her hands on her hips. "Elves."

Arthur opens his mouth, pauses a moment, but then closes it again, giving up. "What on earth can this be?" he wonders, tearing the paper with abandon as Gwen sits beside him, still sipping her 7-Up.

He holds up a very large print, black words on gold paper that almost looks like parchment, matted against deep burgundy and framed in polished ebony.

His eyes scan the text and he immediately recognizes it as Dr. King's already-famous speech from this past August, the speech that has been dubbed the "I Have a Dream" speech.

The speech where he met his Guinevere. _Well, technically, it was after the speech, but who cares?_

The most fascinating part of it is that Gwen has chosen key phrases from within the text of the speech and had them made larger, so they stand out.

He skims, his eyes lingering over the larger words.

_…__all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness._

_ …we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation._

_ Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning._

_ Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred._

_ We cannot walk alone._

_ I have a dream…_

Again and again, _I have a dream…_

_ I have a dream today._

_ …we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood._

_ And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring…_

The entire last paragraph is enlarged, and by the time Arthur's eyes reach it, they are blurred with tears.

_And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"_

At the bottom is Dr. King's name, the event, and the date the speech was given.

"This is amazing, Guinevere," he whispers. He notices the phrases she's chosen are timeless, phrases that will stand up even fifty years from now, even the one that references the year. _Let's just hope that fifty years from now this dream will be realized._ "How did you do this?"

"Well, I don't just sit around eatin' bonbons and watchin' the stories on TV while you're off fightin' the fight, Arthur," she says, smiling, her eyes damp as well. "It's for your office."

He nods, having figured as much. "But…"

"Morgana put me in touch with a printer and the printer recommended a framer, all right, Mr. Nosy?"

He chuckles, running his hands along the frame. "It's unbelievable…"

"It's a reminder," Gwen says, leaning her head on his shoulder. "A reminder not only of how we met, but also of why you chose to do what you're doin'. I know if _I_ had Dr. King's words starin' at me from my wall, I sure as heck'd be inspired."

"It'll be good for days when I might not be feelin' too good or feelin' kind of… less than Superman," he says, smiling, still staring at it. "Not only is it meaningful, you've managed to find a way to make it… visually attractive as well. It's just words, but it _looks_ good."

"They asked me if I wanted to add some art, like a sunset or clouds or… oh, I don't even remember now. I said no, because it all just seemed…"

"Unnecessary," Arthur finishes.

"Exactly," Gwen says, pleased that he immediately understood. "After I brought it up here, it occurred to me that havin' this in your office – which was always my intent – might help your clients feel that they can trust you, you know. That you're not just some rich white boy, that you actually do care."

"You think so?" Arthur asks.

"Yes. So put it someplace prominent," she says decisively.

Arthur finally sets the print aside. "Thank you, Guinevere, I love it, and I love you," he says, leaning over to kiss her.

"I'm glad you like it," Gwen manages, but Arthur is persistent, leaning her back, deepening the kiss. "Arthur…"

"Mmm," he murmurs, pulling at the tie of her robe.

"_Arthur,_" she says firmly, pulling back. He pouts. "Behave yourself."

"I was lookin' to unwrap another gift," he says, clearly still trying.

"Arthur, I am goin' to the doctor tomorrow and he's gonna need to…"

Arthur surrenders, holding his hands up. "Okay, you can stop there. Making love to you under the Christmas tree will have to wait."

"You are insatiable and a little bit of a pervert," Gwen declares.

"Yes, and I'm all yours," he grins.

Gwen rolls her eyes, but then she sighs and smiles. "Odd thing is, I wouldn't have you any other way," she says.

The phone rings and Gwen furrows her brow a moment. "See, now, wouldn't that have been inconvenient?" she tosses at him just before she picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"Elyan Thomas, why on earth are you spendin' money on callin' long distance?" she demands, hanging up on him. She waits a moment and picks up the handset and dials Elyan's number now while Arthur laughs.

"I was just gonna call you anyway. I was waitin' till it was late enough so I didn't wake you up," she says a moment later. "Arthur, go pick up the other phone, so he can talk to both of us."

"That's all right, Guinevere, I…"

"You're just gonna ask me everything he said anyway. Go," she insists, pointing now. He gets up and shuffles to the bedroom.

"Merry Christmas, Elyan," Arthur greets.

"Hey, Merry Christmas, man. What did you get for my big sister?"

"Gets right to the point, doesn't he?" Arthur laughs. "I bought her a new mop and an apron."

Gwen laughs.

"You better not have," Elyan warns.

"He bought me diamond earrings and a new car," Gwen says, still laughing.

"Stop screwin' with me," Elyan says, clearly getting irritated now.

"Elyan. He bought me diamond earrings and a new car," Gwen repeats, not laughing anymore.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Daddy's car was startin' to go, and fast. Arthur bought me a new one, another Impala, but this one is blue."

"Wow," is all Elyan can say.

"I know, it's a bit overwhelmin'," Gwen says. "What did you get for Toya?"

"A necklace, like Miss Morgana said," he says sheepishly. "A locket, nothin' fancy. But she loves it."

"And you're gonna propose at New Year's?" Gwen asks.

"Yes. I got Mama's ring cleaned, too."

"Good man," Arthur says. "Better than I did. I didn't have time."

"That's because you were in a hot rush to run away with my sister," Elyan points out.

"Maybe," Arthur says.

"What did Toya get for you?" Gwen asks.

"A new tool belt. A real nice one," Elyan says.

"You like it?" Gwen asks. _Strange gift._

"I love it," Elyan says. "Hey, what'd she get you, Arthur?"

Arthur tells him all about the print of the speech, going on about how amazing he thinks it is and how much he likes it.

"Wow, Gwennie, that's a really… um, creative gift. Where'd you come up with that idea?"

"It just came to me," Gwen says, shrugging. "It's not a car or diamond earrings, but he seems to like it."

"Well, you did give me the best gift of all—"

"Arthur!" Gwen interrupts him.

"Whoops."

"Look, I really don't want to know about whatever the two of you got up to under the mistletoe, all right?" Elyan huffs.

"No, it's not _that,_" Gwen says. _Though it is related…_

"What, then?"

Arthur and Gwen are both silent for a moment. _I can feel her glaring at me through the wall,_ Arthur thinks.

"I'm havin' Arthur's baby, Elyan. You're gon' be an uncle," Gwen states. "We were gonna keep it under wraps for a bit, but _someone_ had to open his fat mouth."

"Sorry. I'm excited," Arthur says.

Then they notice that Elyan is strangely quiet.

"Elyan?" Gwen says.

"Congratulations," he says, but his tone does not match his sentiment.

"How very underwhelmin' of you," she says, disappointed but not entirely surprised.

"Well, I'm sorry, Gwen, but I can't get all fired-up excited over a child that's gon' have nothin' but grief!" he exclaims.

"Elyan…"

"Don't 'Elyan' me," he says. "You are too trustin' o' people. Too Goddamn optimistic. This is gon' be a mixed baby, and it's gon' get even more hate than if it was full colored! You shoulda been careful. I always thought you were smarter than this."

Gwen is crying now, so Arthur speaks.

"Do you think that hasn't occurred to both of us, Elyan? Do you think that we _don't_ see the potential problems our child might have? Do you think we haven't discussed this?" Arthur asks softly, wanting nothing more than to go into the living room and put his arms around his wife.

"I s'pose y'all have…"

"Yes. We have. We know that a mixed baby isn't going to have the easiest road, just like we knew we wouldn't have the easiest road getting married in the first place. But we're makin' it work. Your sister is happy. Was this baby planned? Not exactly, but you damn well know it will sure as hell be loved. Shit, Elyan, who do you know of that is better-equipped to help bring up a mixed child, or any child, for that matter, than your sister?"

"No one…"

"Elyan," Gwen says, sniffling, "you say I'm too trusting and optimistic. Has it ever occurred to you that you could be a little _more_ trusting and optimistic? Not everyone is out to bring you down. That's been proved to you more than once these last several months."

Elyan is silent for a long moment. "Toya's been tellin' me the same thing. She says she loves me, but she's gettin' tired of my attitude."

"So change it," Gwen says. "Make it your New Year's Resolution. Start lookin' for the good in people. I _know_ you see a lot o' bad out there on your jobs and on the streets, but start lookin' for some good. For Toya. For me. For your future niece or nephew. For yourself, Elyan."

"It ain't that simple," he protests.

"Yes, it is. Don't make me have Arthur read Dr. King's speech to you over the phone," she threatens.

"I could, it's right here, all transcribed in black and white," Arthur says wryly.

"Oh, ha ha, Mr. Funnyman," Elyan says, laughing a little in spite of himself. "Okay. I'm sorry, Gwennie. I know the baby will have everythin' a little baby could want or need."

"Can you be happy for me, Elyan?" Gwen asks softly.

"I am happy for you, Gwen. Really. I just got a funny way o' showin' it," he says.

"Thank you," she says. "I haven't even been to the doctor yet. My first appointment's tomorrow."

"Oh, so it's _brand_ new news, then," Elyan says.

"Just found out Friday," Gwen says, "so please keep it under your hat. You can tell Toya, but don't go blabbin' it to Aaron and Fred and definitely not Gwaine. It'll be all over town in a minute if you tell him. We'll tell you when I'm far enough along to be comfortable tellin' folks."

"Right," Elyan laughs. "Thanks for lettin' me tell Toya, though. She'll appreciate that, and I'd feel bad keepin' it from her."

"Elyan, did you get our Christmas card?" Gwen asks with a sigh, changing the subject. She knows full well that he did, but she's asking him anyway.

"Oh, yes, thanks. Y'all sent too much money," he says.

"Well, I noticed you didn't hesitate to cash that check," Gwen teases. "I didn't know what to get your fool self. It's for you _and_ Latoya, you know."

"Oh, so you knew already that I got it! And yes, I saw what you wrote in the card," he says. "I'm keepin' it aside for the weddin', though, so she don't know 'bout it yet."

"All right," Gwen says. "You goin' someplace for dinner, I hope?"

"Toya's. Meetin' the _whole_ family," he says, exhaling heavily.

"Good luck, man," Arthur says.

"Thanks. I should let y'all go. I still gotta shave and shower," he says.

"Okay. Arthur probably wants to call his Pop, anyway," Gwen says. "Merry Christmas, El. Love you."

"Love you, too, Gwen. Merry Christmas, both o' ya."

"Merry Christmas," Arthur says.

"Hey, Gwen?"

"Yes?"

"Better hope that baby looks like you," Elyan teases.

"Hey!" Arthur says, laughing.

"Good_bye,_ Elyan," Gwen says.

"'Bye," Elyan answers, and they all hang up.

"Call your father," Gwen yells. "I gotta go pee, then I'll be back."

She hears a groan, then, "Okay."

xXx

"…she likes it, Pop, she didn't want a Cadillac or a Lincoln or anything fancy," Arthur is saying when Gwen picks up.

"All I'm saying is that your wife should be driving a top-of-the-line vehicle, if she insists on driving," Uther replies.

"Mr. Pendragon, don't be such a snob," Gwen says, surprising all of them. Even herself.

"Gwen! When did you pick up?" Uther exclaims.

"Just a minute ago, sorry. Didn't Arthur tell you I'd be along momentarily?" she asks.

"Yes, I did," Arthur says, defending himself. "I was just tellin' Pop about your car."

"I gathered. And I love it, just so you know. He gave me the opportunity to choose something else, and I declined."

"Was I being a snob?" Uther asks after a moment.

"A bit," Gwen says.

"Yes," Arthur answers, laughing.

"He also got me some diamond earrings, if that helps," Gwen offers.

"Oh, well, that makes everything better, doesn't it?" Uther says, laughing now as well. "I'm sorry. If you like the car, then I'm happy. Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Mr. Pendragon," Gwen says. "Are you going over to Merlin and Hunith's for dinner?"

"Yeah," he chuckles. "She keeps taking pity on me, so I keep going."

"He pays for most of it," Arthur says.

"I am more than happy to buy the food if someone else cooks it. I wouldn't know what to do with an uncooked turkey or ham," Uther replies. "And Hunith definitely does."

"Oh, tell her the scones she mailed us are all gone," Arthur says.

"When did you get them?" Uther asks.

"Monday."

"Arthur, it's only Wednesday!" Uther exclaims, laughing.

"Well, if Hunith would give me her recipe, he wouldn't have to stuff himself sily with them and maybe I'll get more than one," Gwen adds.

"Oh, if I tell her that you only got one, she'll definitely give you the recipe," Uther says. "Either that or just send more…"

"I'm happy with either of those options," Arthur says.

"Gwen, Arthur was telling me about your very creative gift to him. It sounds beautiful, I wish I could see it," Uther says.

"Next time you come visit us, you'll have to see it," Gwen says.

"Is that an invite?" Uther says.

"Pop, you know you don't need an invite," Arthur says.

"Actually, I was thinkin' he might be feelin' the urge to come visit us in about nine months," Gwen says.

"Why, what's happening in nine months? Will your house be done then?" Uther asks.

"Well, yes, probably, but there's somethin' else that will be happenin' in _nine months,_ Mr. Pendragon," Gwen tries again.

"Pop, don't think too hard about this now," Arthur says. _I guess she figured since we told Elyan, we should tell Pop._ "What usually takes nine months to happen?"

"Wait, you're not… already?" Uther exclaims, and Arthur can almost hear the puzzle pieces slide into place.

"That's what the nice nurse I spoke with Friday seemed to think, yes," Gwen says.

"I'm going to be a grandpa?"

"_Yes,_ Pop. Guinevere is pregnant. We weren't plannin' on tellin' folks yet, but I let slip to Elyan, so in the interest of fairness, you get to be in on the secret. It's still pretty early," Arthur says. "Try not to let the cat out of the bag at Hunith's house today," he says with a sigh.

"Your secret is safe with me," Uther says.

"It had better be, because if Merlin finds out from you and not me, I'm goin' to have to answer for that," Arthur says.

"All right, all right, I won't make a peep, I promise. I'm a lawyer, we're supposed to be able to keep secrets," Uther huffs.

Arthur laughs, because he was the one who let it slip to Elyan. _Whoops._ "So you're happy?"

"Of course I'm happy! Okay, well, it's earlier than I would have expected, and I'll be lying if I said I wasn't worried about your bringing a mixed-race child into this world, but I'm not going to waste my time lecturing you on something I'm _sure_ you've already talked through. You're both adults and I trust you'll be able to handle whatever situations that arise." He says this in a rather you-damn-well-better-have-talked-about-this tone. Then, "You'll be wonderful parents."

_Wow,_ Gwen thinks. _I had no idea he had such a high opinion of us._

"Wow," Arthur speaks Gwen's thought aloud. "Thanks, Pop. Elyan was, shall we say…"

"A jerk," Gwen supplies.

"Yeah. Not as happy as we would have liked, so it's really nice that you're happy for us," Arthur finishes.

Gwen sighs. "It probably isn't fair, callin' him a jerk like that. He's just always worried about me too much, 'specially considerin' he's my _little_ brother," she says, feeling a little guilty now for calling her brother a jerk.

"Of course he worries about you. He loves you," Uther says simply. "Have you been to the doctor yet?" he asks, steering the conversation elsewhere now.

"Tomorrow. Alice has recommended one," Gwen says.

"So she knows?" Uther asks.

"Yes," Gwen admits. "Only out of necessity. She knew before Arthur, but she's promised me she wouldn't tell."

"Speaking of which, we'd better get going if we're going to get over there in time for you to help with dinner, Guinevere," Arthur says.

"I know, I was just lookin' at the clock. We ain't even dressed yet. I mean, we're wearin' pajamas, of course, Mr. Pendragon…" Gwen rambles.

"I knew what you meant, Gwen," Uther laughs. "I'll let you go. Merry Christmas again. Give my love to Gaius and Alice and Morgana."

"Will do, Pop. Send ours to everyone at Hunith's," Arthur says.

xXx

They wind up telling Gaius and Morgana about the baby after all. After a brief discussion in the car on the way to their house, they decide that they deserve to know.

_"We've grown so close to them in such a short time, it just don't feel right to not tell them," Gwen had said._

_ "I thought we were gonna wait until you were a little further along. Not that I'm wishin' anything bad, Lord knows I'm not," Arthur said, "but what if somethin'_ does _happen?"_

_ "Then we're gonna need their support," Gwen answered. "Alice already knows, and you know it's gotta be killin' her to keep this from Gaius. And I feel bad askin' her to do so."_

_ "Morgana'd have a fit if she found out we were keepin' this from her anyway," Arthur sighed._

_ Gwen chuckled then. "And you've already proven that you can't be trusted to keep this news quiet."_

_ Arthur was about to protest, but decided to keep his mouth closed._

So, after dinner, after the dishes are cleaned and put away, they all retire to the living room to exchange gifts, and Gwen decides that it's time to tell them. Especially because Alice keeps fretting over her like a mother hen.

"Are you comfortable, dear?" Alice asks Gwen, who is, in fact, seated quite comfortably on the sofa next to Arthur.

"Yes, I'm fine," Gwen says.

"Mom, what is going on? You have been hovering over Gwen since she got here," Morgana asks.

"Have I?" Alice asks innocently.

"Yes, you have," Gwen says, smirking. "It's all right, we're gonna tell," she whispers.

"Tell what?" Morgana demands. "Oh, no… don't tell me you're sick! You're sick, aren't you? You didn't eat much at dinner… Oh, God, you're dying, aren't you?"

"Morgana!" Arthur yells, trying not to laugh. "Cool it. She ain't dyin'. Do you think I'd be sittin' around here grinnin' like an idiot like I've been all day if my wife was dyin'?"

"Oh good," Morgana says, settling back down. "Daddy?"

Gaius has a crafty look on his face now. "Hmm?"

"You know something."

"I have simply worked out what it is that is causing my wife to cluck and fuss over Guinevere like a mother hen, that's all, based on what you've just said and what Arthur's just said."

"Okay, will someone let me in on the secret then, since _apparently_ I'm the only one who—" Morgana stops mid-sentence, and her eyes grow wide. "Oh, my God, you're pregnant!" she yells.

Gwen smiles now, and Morgana tackles her, hugging her fiercely. "I'm going to be an auntie!"

"Technically, second cousin," Arthur says. "I think."

"First cousin, once removed," Gaius corrects.

"Auntie," Morgana declares, releasing Gwen. Then she looks at Arthur. "Didn't waste any time, did you?"

"Hey, when you're good, you're good," Arthur says smugly.

"Ech," Morgana pulls a face.

"You brought it up," Arthur says, laughing.

"Now, I'm only _just_ pregnant, so we're not advertisin' it to the world yet. We weren't actually goin' to even tell y'all, but Arthur let it slip to my brother on the phone this mornin', so then we had to tell Uther, and…"

"Since Auntie knew already anyway, and we're so close to you, we thought we'd just tell you today," Arthur finishes.

"How is it that you knew already?" Morgana asks Alice.

"Gwen was looking for a recommendation for a doctor," Alice explains. "When is your appointment again, dear?"

"Tomorrow morning. Yes, I will call you when we're done," Gwen says.

"So you haven't even been to the doctor yet?" Morgana asks.

"No, like I said, we just found out," Gwen says. "Last Friday, in fact."

"So that's why you were about ready to fall over last night after church and you were picking at your food today…" Morgana muses.

"Have you had much morning sickness, dear?" Alice asks.

"Some. This morning, yes, unfortunately," she frowns.

"Guinevere made biscuits and gravy, too," Arthur says.

"That's just a travesty," Gaius declares. "Oh, and congratulations, I just realized I hadn't said!" He stands and crosses to Gwen, who stands to receive his hug.

"Thank you, Uncle Gaius," she says. Then Gaius hugs Arthur as well, slapping his back in a manly sort of way.

"Well, shall I play Santa Claus, since I'm on my feet?" Gaius asks.

"Yes!" Morgana and Arthur exclaim together.

Gwen meets Alice's eyes and they both smirk.


	30. Chapter 30

"Guinevere?" the nurse calls, looking at a folder on a clipboard. Gwen stands, Arthur trailing behind her, clearly feeling out of place in this particular office.

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't go back there," the nurse says to Arthur.

"He can't?" Gwen asks, furrowing her brow. "He's my husband, I'd really like him to come…"

"Oh! He is? Oh, I'm sorry…" the nurse answers, clearly flustered. She looks at the file. "Pendragon… oh, right," she mutters, blinking a few times, putting the locally-famous name with the young woman standing in front of her.

"Does _everyone_ know your uncle in this town?" Gwen asks Arthur.

"Top law firm in Milwaukee," Arthur says proudly.

"Follow me, please. You'll still have to wait outside the exam room while the doctor examines your wife, Mr. Pendragon," the nurse says.

"I figured that," Arthur says.

They follow the nurse down a corridor a short distance, and she stops. "Step on the scale please," she instructs Gwen.

"Don't look," Gwen tells Arthur, handing him her coat. "Shouldn't have worn this heavy sweater," she mutters, stepping on the scale while Arthur dutifully looks away.

"It just so we can keep track of how you progress," the nurse says, biting back her smile when she catches Arthur peeking.

"You can come in now, but when I leave her to undress, you have to, too," the nurse tells Arthur, leading them into an exam room.

"Yes, ma'am," Arthur nods, suddenly a boy on his best behavior.

The nurse asks Gwen some questions, routine things, while Arthur looks around the room. He reads the certificates and diplomas on the walls, including a plaque congratulating the doctor on hitting a hole-in-one at a local golf course.

"And when did you menstruate last?" the nurse asks, the strange (to Arthur) question snapping him back to reality.

"Why do you need to know that?" he asks. "I'm just curious. Obviously I've never been to… _this_ kind of doctor…"

"It will help us to determine how far along Mrs. Pendragon's pregnancy is, for starters. It's actually a routine question, Mr. Pendragon," the nurse explains patiently.

"November 15," Gwen says, remembering her scrutiny of the calendar last week.

"Really?" Arthur asks.

"Yes, why?"

"I didn't notice anything," he shrugs.

"Were you expectin' to?" Gwen asks, raising an eyebrow at him while the nurse bites back her smile.

"Um…" Arthur hedges, trying to think of a way out of the hole he is rapidly digging for himself.

"All right, we'll take your pulse and blood pressure, and then I'll be back with the doctor," the nurse says, rescuing Arthur.

She takes the readings and stands, instructing Gwen to undress below the waist and sit on the table with a paper blanket over her lap. Then she ushers Arthur out of the room.

"He'll be right outside, Guinevere," the nurse says. Outside, she looks at Arthur. "Have you two been married long?"

"Almost a month," Arthur says. "We got married Thanksgiving weekend."

"Hmm," the nurse says, nodding thoughtfully. "Sit here," she points to a chair. "I'll be back in a few minutes with the doctor."

Arthur sits. _I wonder what that was about,_ he thinks, pondering his fingernails. _Could use a trim._ He looks around. _Nothing to read. Of course, in the waiting room there were only issues of_ Good Housekeeping _and_ Better Homes and Gardens. _Hardly interesting reading._

_ But it would be something, anyway._

"New patient, hmm?" Arthur hears a male voice approaching and looks up to see a man who appears to be in his mid-50s walking towards him with the nurse.

"Yes, Guinevere Pendragon. First baby. Her blood test results are there," the nurse says quietly, pointing to the chart in the doctor's hand. "And this is Mr. Pendragon, the excited father."

Arthur stands, offering his hand. "Doctor," he greets.

"Mr. Pendragon, I'm Dr. Brockton, pleased to meet you. Don't often get to meet the father till the baby is born," he chuckles.

"Well, the nurse was right. I'm a little excited," he grins sheepishly.

"Newlyweds?" the doctor asks knowingly.

"Yes, sir."

"Written all over your face," the doctor says. "I'll just examine your wife and then you can come back in, all right?"

"Okay, thanks."

The doctor knocks on the door, opening it a crack. "Guinevere, are you ready?"

"Yes," Gwen's voice sounds from the other side. The doctor and nurse go inside and Arthur is left alone in the hallway again.

_I hope it doesn't take too long._

Arthur fidgets, he tries listening at the door, but that just makes him nervous about the other people that occasionally happen past. _I don't want people to think that I'm a pervert._

_ Wait, Guinevere called me a pervert just the other day. Well, she said 'a little bit' of one. But that reminds me, that Christmas tree isn't going to last too much longer…_

The door opens a few minutes later, startling Arthur.

"I thought we'd let your wife get dressed again before we talked some more," the doctor says.

"Ah. So, do things look… healthy?"

"Yes, your wife is in excellent health, Mr. Pendragon, I don't think you have anything to be concerned about."

"How far along is she, do you think?"

"Why don't we wait until she is ready before I start answering a bunch of questions," the doctor smiles.

"Right, sorry."

They stand quietly for a moment. "So, hole-in-one, huh?" Arthur asks.

"Dumb luck," Dr. Brockton chuckles. "Do you golf?"

"No," Arthur laughs.

"You're a lawyer, and you don't golf?" the doctor raises an eyebrow.

"You know I'm a lawyer?"

"Your name is Pendragon; I just assumed. Plus, Guinevere may have mentioned it."

"Okay." The door opens and Gwen's voice sounds from behind it. A moment later Arthur sees her face peeking and smiling at him.

"Ah, shall we?" the doctor motions with his hand, and Arthur enters the room, sitting beside Gwen and taking her hand.

"As I said, Mr. Pendragon, Guinevere is quite healthy. Everything looks normal and good. The morning sickness she is experiencing is quite normal and should abate in time."

"How much time?" Arthur asks.

"It could stop tomorrow; it could stop in, oh, March. Every pregnancy is different," he shrugs.

"That's reassuring," Arthur grumbles.

"Arthur, it's fine. It's usually just for the first trimester, isn't it?" Gwen asks.

"Generally," Dr. Brockton says, nodding. "Now, you were asking about how far along she is," he says, looking at Arthur.

"Yes," Arthur says, and Gwen nods.

"Going from your blood test and today's exam, I would say you are about three and a half weeks along. You may very well have a honeymoon baby there, Mrs. Pendragon," the doctor smiles.

"We haven't gone on one yet," Gwen says, but she is smiling. _Maybe a wedding night baby, then,_ she thinks.

"Oh, no! Can we still go?" Arthur asks. "Our tickets are for March first, we've got everything booked…"

"Mr. Pendragon, it'll be fine," the doctor says. "I see no reason why the two of you can't go on your honeymoon."

"Oh, good," Arthur says, relaxing.

"So can you figure a due date yet?" Gwen asks quietly.

"Well, it's not an exact science, but I would estimate…" he pulls out a calendar, flipping to September. "Wait…" he mumbles, flipping back and counting quickly. "Assuming your baby was conceived either on your wedding night or shortly thereafter…" He finishes counting. "Late August. Perhaps the 22nd. Maybe a little later."

Gwen looks at Arthur, biting her lower lip, nervous and excited.

"I hope the house will be ready in time," he says, suddenly ticking off a mental to-do list of everything that needs to be done before then.

Gwen sees him start to get anxious and puts her hand over the one already holding the other one. "Arthur. _Arthur._ Baby, it'll be fine. If the house isn't done, it's not done. The baby's not goin' to care."

"Wait, you're building a house, too?" the doctor asks, surprised.

"Haven't started yet, but yes. I'm going to have to call Tristan…" Arthur trails off.

"You kids have got one full plate," the doctor says.

xXx

New Year's Eve it is very cold and snowy. Gwen had already expressed a desire to give Morgana's annual New Year's Eve party a miss, citing that she wouldn't be able to stay up that late anyway, and so Arthur and Gwen decided to spend the evening alone in their apartment together.

Last week Thursday after the doctor appointment they called Alice, trusting she'd pass the information to Gaius. Then Gwen wanted to call Elyan and finally Morgana, who was at the office. Arthur called Uther. Everyone was circling the end of August on their calendars and formulating guesses about the baby's gender.

Friday, Arthur took a chance and called Tristan. He got his answering service, so he left a message asking that the builder return his call at his earliest convenience. He was rewarded later that afternoon, something for which Gwen was very grateful because he was making her crazy.

_"Hello? Hi, Tristan, sorry to bother you, I hope… oh, you were. Good. Um, yeah, I was just wondering something. Well, I know you said September for the house to be done, but is there any way we can make that happen sooner? Not a lot sooner, just a few weeks. Mid-August, ideally."_

_ Gwen smiled, returning her attention to her sewing, having decided to get an early start on baby clothes. At the moment she was working on a sleeper, a long dress with a closed bottom and a zipper down the front that Arthur had been referring to as "baby-in-a-bag." The material is yellow flannel with giraffes on._

_ "Well, we just would really like to be able to move in mid-August…"_

_ "Just tell him, Arthur," Gwen sighed._

_ "Well, Guinevere is expecting, and she's due around August 22. We'd like to be in the house before the baby comes. Well,_ I'd _like to be in the house before the baby comes," Arthur said. "Thank you," he smiled then. "I can pay for additional labor, if that's what you need; you know that's not an issue. You will? Great, thanks, keep me posted."_

_ Arthur hung up the phone, smiling at Gwen. "He said he'd do some checkin' around to see if he can get more people, maybe hire some on a contract basis. If we were buildin' a regular-sized house, it wouldn't be as big a deal, I guess, but_ you _wanted the big manor house…"_

_ "I beg your pardon, Mr. Pendragon, but I believe it was_ you _who was requirin' all that space, with the four bedrooms and the three-car garage," she said, pointing her scissors at him, trying not to laugh._

"Baby, can you run down to that diner on the corner and see if you can get us some dinner to go?" Gwen asks on the afternoon of New Year's Eve. "I don't much feel like cookin'."

"What, right now?"

Gwen looks at him with a sigh. "No, not this second, it's only 3:00. I'm just plannin' ahead. You know, so you don't wonder why I'm not in the kitchen, cookin' your dinner."

"Ah. Right. Are they open today?"

"Yes, I saw a sign on the door when I went past on Monday," she says, leaning over to kiss him.

"Okay," he answers, pouting slightly because he doesn't really want to go out in the cold. But he will; he knows this. _If she wanted spaghetti direct from Italy I would make it happen._

Shortly after five, Gwen is hungry, and she sends Arthur out into the snow for dinner. The diner is just down the street so she knows she doesn't have much time, but thankfully, she doesn't have much to do.

She finds the blanket she's looking for in the hall closet, spreading it out beside the Christmas tree. Then she goes and collects napkins, plates, and cutlery, setting up the little picnic, waiting for Arthur to return with the food.

xXx

"Guinevere, I… Guinevere?" Arthur calls as he enters the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Over here," she calls from where she is seated on the floor.

"What on earth?"

"I thought we'd have a little picnic under the Christmas tree before we have to toss it out," she says, patting the blanket. Arthur's boots and coat are off in record time.

_I hope that means what I think it means,_ he thinks, coming quickly over with the bag of food.

"Winter time picnic, hey?" he asks, sitting down on the floor beside her.

"No ants," Gwen grins, receiving his kiss. "Or flies, or wasps, or…" Arthur silences her lips with another kiss. "Your lips are cold."

"Someone sent me out into the snow for a club sandwich and a bowl of soup," Arthur says.

"What kind did they have?" she asks, taking the container Arthur hands her.

"Soup of the day is split pea, but I got you the chicken dumpling that they have every day," Arthur says.

"Thank you," Gwen says, smiling over that tiny bit of thoughtfulness. _It's those little things that warm the heart._

"What are smilin' at over there, darlin'?" Arthur asks, opening his container to reveal half a roast chicken and some mashed potatoes.

"The fact that you know I don't like split pea soup," she says, giggling now. "It's silly, I know."

"Not at all," he says, smiling warmly at her, chicken leg in hand. "Last week when you fixed the back of my collar because it was inside my tie I felt all warm and stupid inside."

Gwen laughs with him, but she understands exactly what he means. She leans over and kisses him.

"Your soup's gonna get cold if you keep that up," he mutters against her lips.

She leans back immediately. "That's why I'm not. I'm powerful hungry."

"My son needs to eat," he says, grinning broadly.

"Or daughter," Gwen counters, just to needle him. They had already discussed the fact that they honestly don't care if it's a boy or a girl, but Gwen secretly wants a little boy just like Arthur.

Gwen digs into her soup while Arthur stands again, muttering something about needing barbecue sauce and that he should have Merlin send him some "real" stuff.

He returns and they eat quietly, chatting about nothing and everything: the baby, Arthur's work, the house, Morgana's party that they're missing.

"I hope they're havin' fun," Gwen says. "Morgana was pretty disappointed we weren't comin'."

"We ain't obliged to go to her party," Arthur says. "Deep down she knows this, but she just likes to pout."

"Family trait," Gwen teases. "Bein' alone with you is a very good way to ring in the New Year, as far as I'm concerned."

"Yes, indeed," Arthur agrees. He looks around. "Wish we had a fireplace."

"Soon enough, Baby."

They finish eating and Gwen starts to clear the dishes while Arthur takes the containers he brought the food home in and puts them back in the bag to throw away.

"I'll take that," Gwen says, standing and holding her hand out for the bag.

"Oh, okay," Arthur says, handing it to her with a slightly puzzled expression.

"You just stay there and relax," she says. She turns to go to the kitchen to deposit the items, but she knows Arthur is probably lit up like a Christmas tree himself after hearing her words.

_He probably knows what I'm up to._

_ Or at least he thinks he does._

She returns, deposits herself in his lap, and kisses him. "What was that you were sayin' Christmas morning, somethin' about doin' somethin' under the Christmas tree…?"

"Mmm," Arthur answers noncommittally, his lips on her neck.

"Pickin' up tinsel, maybe? Oh, it was vacuumin' up the fallen pine needles, that's what it—"

Arthur's lips cover hers quickly now, stopping her words and turning them into muffled giggles for just a moment before she is almost completely distracted.

Almost.

He starts to lean her back, and she stops him. "No."

"No?" he pouts.

She smirks at him and pushes _him_ back, leaning over him.

"Yes," he grins now, settling back, letting her take charge.

Gwen bites her lower lip as she wills herself not to lose her nerve. She scoots back onto his legs and pulls his arms. He sits up slightly and she pulls his sweatshirt off, then his t-shirt.

"You're not cold, are you?" she asks, running her hand down his chest, enjoying how his muscles jump under her fingers.

"Not in the slightest. In fact, I'm getting warmer by the moment." He reaches for her sweatshirt now, his Harvard one that she stole, and pulls it over her head. She tosses it aside and leans over him again, laying him back on the blanket.

Gwen moves to the side and unbuckles his belt and then opens his jeans. He lifts up so she can pull them down and off. Arthur hooks his thumbs into his briefs and shoves them along with.

"May as well be efficient about this," he says, grinning as she rolls her eyes at him and pulls his socks off.

"Yes, efficient. That's why," Gwen says. Arthur is reaching for her jeans now as well, and in another minute they are both naked, bathed in the glow of the colored lights of the Christmas tree.

Arthur reaches for her, sliding his hands softly on her skin, lingering over her stomach.

"Hard to believe that there's someone in there," he whispers.

"I know," she smiles at him, lifting his fingers to her lips.

"I can't wait till you start showing," he says, leaning over to kiss her as she lounges next to him, her one leg over his.

"I can," she says, grinning against his lips. She presses against him, leaning over him now.

"You're a determined little thing tonight," Arthur comments as she moves to nibble his ear, then down his neck.

Gwen says nothing, her hand stroking his chest, his stomach as she kisses lower. She pauses at his chest, gathering her courage again. Her hand trails down and finds his manhood, running her fingers along its length.

"Oh," he groans quietly.

_Go, girl. Just go._ Gwen moves lower yet, kissing down his stomach.

"Guinevere, what are you… Ohmygod…" Arthur's head falls back with a soft thud as Gwen presses her lips to his shaft in a soft, slow kiss just before she slips him into her mouth.

"Oh, wow…" Arthur groans.

Gwen slides his length in and out, sucking experimentally, holding the base of him in her hand. _I have no idea what I'm doing, but he seems to be enjoying it._ Then she leans back slightly, swirls her tongue around the tip, and takes him back in again, sucking harder now.

"Guinevere…"

Her confidence grows with his responsiveness and she gets bolder, moving faster, more deliberate, and she finds that she is enjoying this, too.

"Oh… Gwen… stop, or I'm going to…" Arthur gasps, reaching his hand down to her shoulder.

"Oh," Gwen says, releasing him, letting him gently pull her back up to him. She smiles shyly at him once, but then he is kissing her, fervent and passionate, pulling her over him so she is laying on him.

"You are amazing," he mutters between kisses, lifting her higher to kiss down her neck towards her breasts.

"Mmm," Gwen moans when his lips close over her nipple, his hands stroking her back and rear.

She runs her fingers into his hair, holding his head lightly, feeling the silken texture of his hair between her fingers.

He moves her again, sliding her down until she can feel his erection against her. She moves so that his length is in between her thighs and she slides her legs against him, stroking him with the soft skin of her inner thighs.

"Oh…" he grunts, his hips moving reflexively.

Gwen moves her legs apart so she is straddling him again and sighs, feeling the tip of him slide along her folds, sending pleasurable sensations through her.

"Arthur," she whispers, moving again, taking his shaft in her hand and placing him at her entrance. She slides down again, leaning back and slowly taking him in.

He groans as she moves over him, rocking her hips, her hands planted on his chest, eyes closed. "Mmm," she moans again.

Arthur's hands slide up her torso to cup her breasts, trying to remember to be gentle with her slightly-swollen flesh.

Gwen leans forward now, placing her hands on either side of his head so she can kiss him. She continues to move, but faster now, and Arthur's hands find her hips, holding on as she rides him.

"Oh, yes," he whispers when her lips leave his for a moment, and his fingers flex, gripping her tighter now.

"Ah," Gwen gasps, moving faster, finding the spot she likes, nipping his earlobe, even biting his neck lightly, clinging to the precipice for just a moment longer before letting go.

"Ah! Oh…" she gasps, and a moment later, Arthur follows, plunging into the abyss right along with her, his arms clamping around her back, holding her to him tightly as he groans and stills.

They lay together for a time, Gwen on top of Arthur, her head on his chest and his arms around her. She is so still that Arthur is afraid she's fallen asleep.

"Guinevere?" he asks softly, moving his hands to trail his fingers on her back.

"Hmm?"

"You awake?"

"Of course I'm awake. I'm just very comfortable," she says, lifting her head now.

"I'm glad _you_ are," he says, shifting a little.

"Oh! Baby, I'm sorry, here I am all cozy layin' on you, and I forgot that you're layin' on the hard floor!" she exclaims, rolling off of him.

They get up somewhat reluctantly and gather their clothes and the blanket. Gwen goes and puts on a nightgown and Arthur puts on a t-shirt and pajama pants. They settle in on the sofa to watch TV for a while, cuddled together.

"So did that meet your expectations for under the tree?" Gwen asks, turning to kiss him.

"Exceeded it, actually, but I can't help but wonder…" he says, not sure how he wants to phrase the question on his mind.

"You're wonderin' how a sweet, previously innocent girl like me knew about somethin' like… _that,_" she says, knowing what he's thinking.

"Well, yes."

"Arthur, just because I was a good girl my whole life doesn't mean I didn't hear things that other, not-so-good girls talked about," Gwen says, snuggling against him.

"Oh… yes, I suppose that's true," he says, kissing the top of her head.

"Did you… like it?" she asked softly, keeping her face pointed away from him now, embarrassed.

"I think you know that I did, darlin'," Arthur chuckles.

xXx

Three hours later, Gwen is asleep in Arthur's arms, and he carries her to bed. Again.

_At least this time she's already in her jammies,_ Arthur thinks, tucking her in. He kisses her forehead. "I love you," he whispers.

"Love you, too, Baby," Gwen mumbles, cuddling into the bed. Arthur kisses her cheek, then goes back out to the living room to turn off the television and the lights, even though he's not really all that tired.

He finds a book and climbs into bed beside Guinevere, turning on a small bedside lamp.

_Reading in bed at 10:15 on New Year's Eve. I'd never hear the end of it if certain people knew._

He looks down at his beautiful, sleeping, pregnant wife and decides that his priorities are right where they should be.

xXx

The Monday after New Year's, Gwen is resting on the couch, contemplating the possibility of grocery shopping, when the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Guinevere? This is Glenn Barrett from the Education department at UWM," the voice says.

"Oh, hello, Dr. Barrett," Gwen says. _Well, I guess I do this now._

"I just stopped by the office and saw that your transcripts have arrived. They sent me copies."

"Oh, um, about that…"

"Your grades are very impressive, I must say. It should be no problem getting you certified, and you _may_ even be able to gain your certification in enough time to get you in front of a classroom by this fall," he says, not having heard her start to speak.

"Dr. Barrett, something has come up and I won't be seeking my certification after all," Gwen says quietly.

"What? Is everything all right?"

Gwen is impressed at his concern. "Yes, everything's fine, nothing to be concerned over. But my husband and I have talked it over and I've decided that I'm not going to work."

"Oh?"

"Well, since we last spoke we learned that I'm expecting, and the baby's due in late August, which is a bit inconvenient for teaching this fall, you see. And it's important to me to be home with my baby."

"Oh. Oh! Um, congratulations to you both," he says, surprised. "I must admit I am disappointed, your transcripts are stellar and I was looking forward to meeting you."

"I'm sorry, sir, but sometimes the Lord has plans that are different than our own, if you don't mind my saying."

"Yes, I understand completely. I was surprised with twins fifteen years ago," he chuckles.

"Oh, goodness, so you do understand," Gwen says, laughing, but her brain is suddenly on high alert. _Twins? I hadn't even considered that possibility!_

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you have my number," Dr. Barrett says. "Best of luck to you and the new baby."

"Thank you, sir. Happy New Year," she says.

"Happy New Year to you, too."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N (I know, it's like a Bigfoot sighting, right?): Some of you have been asking about whether or not Lancelot is going to show up and stir things up. I invite those people to go back and read chapter 11. **

March 16, 1964. Arthur and Gwen arrived home from their honeymoon two days ago. Two blissful weeks in Hawaii, just the two of them. Gwen's morning sickness had abated in late February, thankfully, so she was feeling healthy as can be, if a little tired, for the trip. They swam in the ocean. They saw Diamond Head, the Pearl Harbor Memorial, Hawaii Volcanoes National Park and countless beaches of different colored sand. They went to a luau and had roast pork that had been cooked on hot rocks in a hole in the ground. They tried poi. Arthur decided it was called "poi" because that's the sound you make after you try it. They tried not to giggle like a couple of 12-year-olds every time an innocent waiter or waitress asked them if they were interested in the pu-pu platter. Guinevere picked her own oyster from a bin and got the pearl inside, which they had set in a pendant. She also fell in love with hibiscus flowers and macadamia nuts.

They didn't want to come home. They vowed to come back one day, with whatever family they'd accumulated.

But return home they did, only because they knew that March 16 was the day the big bulldozers were coming to break ground on their new house, even if there was still some lingering snow on the ground. Which, of course, there was.

Gwen and Arthur are standing, their heavy coats covering their sun-kissed bodies, watching as the digger's shovel pierces into the hard ground.

"Exciting isn't it?" Tristan's voice behind them speaks.

"Tristan, nice to see you," Arthur says, extending his hand.

"You look like you had a nice honeymoon," Tristan appraises. "Caught some sun, anyway."

Arthur smiles. "The only reason we came home is because we didn't want to miss this," he admits.

"Oh, we would have started anyway," he says.

"But we wanted to see it," Gwen says, still watching the digger.

"Mr. Wagner," another voice interrupts them. Tristan turns.

"Ah, Cedric," he says. "Arthur, Gwen, this is Cedric, my building foreman. Cedric, Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon."

"Hello," Cedric says. He's a strange-looking fellow, skinny, with large eyes that give him a perpetually-surprised appearance. He shakes Arthur's hand, then Gwen's. "Big house you folks are building here."

"Yes, well, if you're going to do something like this, do it right and do it once," Arthur says.

"Hey, I like that," Tristan says, looking at Arthur again. "I'm going to have to use that one…"

Arthur laughs. "Thanks. And thanks, too, for finding those extra people," he says. "I can't believe you found some men willing to work Saturdays."

"If people want to make money, they'll do what's necessary," Tristan says.

xXx

Gwen visits the building site nearly every day. Some days she takes photos with the camera Arthur bought her as a Valentine's Day gift for their honeymoon. Some days she brings coffee and doughnuts or other treats, which wins her the loyalty of the workers. The days get warmer; the house takes shape.

Cedric, the foreman, turns out to be friendly and knowledgeable, and the various work crews all seem to respect him.

Arthur gives Gwen carte blanche with the house. She picks out colors for the exterior. She chooses what kind of stone she wants. When she can't make up her mind, she brings samples home for Arthur to help decide. Countertops. Windows. Fireplace stone. Appliances.

"The amount of decisions needin' to be made for a new house is just mind-bogglin'," Gwen declares one evening when Arthur comes home from work.

"Is it?"

"Lord, _everything_ needs to be picked. Today I picked out things for the bathrooms," she sighs, draining a pot of spaghetti noodles into a colander in the sink.

"What things?"

"_Every_thing. Tile. Toilets. Faucets. Sinks. Vanities. Towel bars. _Knobs,_ Arthur. Everything except the toilet paper."

Arthur chuckles. "You are doing an amazing job, darlin'."

"Thank you. I do want your help with the electrical nonsense, though."

"Electrical nonsense?"

"You know, where you want outlets and switches and all that… stuff." She waves her hands in the air, indicating _stuff._

"Right. I can do that. You know all you need to do is ask. I didn't put you in charge because I wanted to get out of helpin', you know. I put you in charge because you have better taste than me."

Gwen laughs. "I know you weren't tryin' to get out of anythin', Baby. And you don't have bad taste." She pauses, sprinkling grated Parmesan cheese on her spaghetti. "Mine is _better,_ o' course, but…"

Arthur's laugh interrupts her and she smiles at him. He picks up her hand and kisses it.

xXx

Merlin, of course, was completely over the moon when they told him about the baby. His excitement level has been rivaling Morgana's even from over 600 miles away. Morgana brings gifts for the baby to the office for Arthur to bring home; Merlin sends his via the US Postal Service.

Gwen brings the mail up, leafing through it in the elevator. There's a padded envelope from Merlin with what feels like a small stuffed toy inside. She squeezes it and hears a faint squeak from within.

Then she sees a thick envelope. A formal invitation, addressed to _Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Pendragon._ The elevator doors slide open and she opens the envelope, too curious to wait, tucking the rest of the mail under her arm, a puzzled expression on her face.

She slides out the inner envelope, which says _Arthur and Gwen_ on it.

"Wait," she says softly to herself, and looks at the return address on the outer envelope. Memphis.

She opens the inner envelope, and, sure enough, it's an invitation to Elyan and Latoya's wedding on June 20. She sits on the couch.

_I'm gonna be seven months pregnant,_ Gwen thinks, her hand falling to rest on her stomach, just slightly swollen, five months along now. _Can we go back to the south with interracial marriage still not legal down there? Would we be askin' for trouble?_

She reaches for the phone and dials.

"Pendragon Law, this is Elena, may I help you?"

"Hello, Elena, this is Gwen. Is Arthur available?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Pendragon, hold please."

A moment later Arthur picks up. "Arthur Pendragon."

"Hi, Baby."

"Guinevere, what's wrong?" he asks. He knows immediately that she's troubled.

"We got an invitation to Elyan's weddin' today. It's in June."

"Oh," he says. Then, "Oh. Yeah, that could be tricky."

"I'd like to go, o' course, but I'm nervous. Our marriage is legal here, but it ain't there. Could we get in trouble?"

"Hmm. Possibly. I mean, yes, we are legally married and all, and even though it ain't legal there, it's probably not the law we need to worry about," he says.

"I know. I want to be there for my brother. What're we gonna do?"

"We'll go, o' course," he declares. "We'll go, and we'll just have to, you know, lay low. We'll stay at Pop's. People want to see us, they can come to us."

"We probably could go to Gwaine's, too," she says, feeling a little better.

"There's my girl. What's the date?"

"June 20."

"I'll give Pop a call. You call Elyan and tell him we're comin'."

"There's a response card for that, Arthur."

"Guinevere, you were goin' to call him anyway," Arthur says, smirking at her over the phone.

"Later. He's workin' now. I'll call him tonight."

That night, after dinner, Arthur offers to clean up the dishes so Gwen can call Elyan.

"Hello?" he answers the phone.

"Hey, little brother," Gwen says.

"Gwen, how are you?"

"Good. Gettin' bigger. Got your invite today," she says.

"Oh, good! Y'all comin'? I know it's not gon' be easy, but…"

"Yes, we're comin'. Arthur talked to his daddy and we're gonna stay with him. We won't be goin' out much, though. I'm gonna be seven months pregnant, you know that, don't you? I can't be paradin' around Memphis pregnant with my white husband's baby."

"I know that, and I'm sorry that it's so complicated. Toya's granny's health has been failin', and she really wants to see her favorite grandbaby get married, so we picked the earliest date we could. If I coulda waited till after my nephew—"

"Or niece," Gwen interjects, just to needle him.

"_Or_ niece was born, I would. But you're comin'?"

"Yes, I wouldn't miss it for anything."

"Will you sing? Toya really wants you to sing. She keeps askin' me, 'Do you think Gwen will be able to sing for us? When you gonna ask her to sing?' and I keep tellin' her that we gotta wait and see if you can even come 'fore I can ask," he chuckles.

"She's excited. A girl only gets married once, you know. Well, ideally," she allows, knowing full well how busy Morgana is with divorces.

"So will you?"

"Yes, I'll sing for your weddin', Elyan," she answers.

"They want you to sing?" Arthur asks, sitting next to her on the couch. She nods, and he grins proudly.

"Don't you worry, Gwen, anyone gives you any trouble, they gon' have to answer to me," Elyan says.

"Thank you, Elyan. I think they'd have to answer to Arthur as well," she chuckles. Arthur nods seriously, guessing at what Elyan must have just said.

"Nothin' bad is goin' to happen, I promise," Arthur says, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"Oh, Merlin's agreed to play, too, so you'll get to sing with him again," Elyan says, remembering.

"Oh, good. I love singin' with him," Gwen says.

"Merlin?" Arthur asks, and Gwen nods.

"I gotta go pick up Toya. We're goin' over to Gwaine's," Elyan says.

"Tell Gwaine hello for us," Gwen says. "Love you, Elyan."

"Love you, too, Gwennie."

xXx

Arthur and Gwen decide to drive to Memphis for the wedding, knowing that even if they flew first class or chartered a private jet, they'd still have to go through the very public airport. So they drive.

This also gives them the opportunity to stop in at Miss Thea's and say hello. Arthur holds the door for Gwen and she walks in. It's 4:00, so early for dinner, and the place is empty.

"Hello, welcome… oh, Lordy, Lord!" Thea exclaims, rushing over and pulling Gwen to her, wrapping her arms around Gwen's small form crushing her to her soft body before holding her at arms' length. "Look at you! _Look_ at you, Sugar… child, you didn't waste _any_ time, did you?" she asks Arthur, gushing and fussing over them as if they were her own children.

Arthur chuckles. "It's good to see you, Miss Thea," he says, and she grabs him next, hugging him just as tightly.

"Arthur, baby, you got more handsome, I do think you have," she says, hands on her hips as she assesses him. "Wouldn't have thought it was possible. But now with this little baby, there's even less chance o' you runnin' away with me, now," she says, pouting rather theatrically. Gwen laughs and Thea leads them to a table.

"Did you get my cornbread?" Thea asks. "The way that skinny friend o' yours was eyein' it up, I was afraid it wasn't gonna make it to you."

"Yes, we got it, and it was a welcome addition to our Thanksgiving dinner," Gwen says, laughing.

"All right, sweet tea and Dr. Pepper, if I'm not mistaken?" Thea asks, and they nod. "Y'all want menus?"

"Merlin raved about your chicken and dumplings," Arthur says. "I think I need that."

"Need, you say? Very well then. Sugar?" Thea asks Gwen.

"You got ribs? I got a hankerin'."

"Do I have ribs…" Thea just walks away shaking her head.

"You may have just insulted her, darlin'."

"I doubt it," Gwen chuckles.

Thea brings their drinks and rushes back to the kitchen with the apology that her help isn't here yet, but she'll be back before they know it with their food.

Gwen visits the restroom, knowing full well she'll need to return there before they leave. Thea returns with their food shortly after she returns.

"Chicken and dumplings for my baby Arthur," Thea sets his plate, heaped full, in front of him and suddenly it's Christmas again for Arthur.

"And ribs for the little mama here," she says, setting Gwen's plate down. Then she sits with them. "Now. Y'all goin' home?"

"Well, if by 'home' you mean Memphis, yes," Arthur says. "Though I am really beginning to feel like Milwaukee is my home now."

Gwen nods. "Winter was cold – really cold – but we are happy there. We're buildin' a house."

"Oo, child, that is exciting! Is it goin' to be done before the baby comes? When are you due?"

"It's going to be tight, but I think we'll be able to move in _just_ before baby is born," Arthur says. "This is mighty good, Miss Thea," he adds.

"Thank you," she says.

"Yes, this is _exactly_ what I needed right now," Gwen agrees. "And the baby's due 'round about August 22."

"Y'all will have to give me your address 'fore you go, so I can send somethin' for the little bundle," Thea says.

"Miss Thea, that's very kind of you…"

"Don't be arguin' with me, now, Guinevere," Thea interrupts, waving a finger at her.

Gwen closes her mouth. "Thank you. You're too good to us," she says.

"Sugar, I treat people like family, no matter what they look like," she says, winking at Arthur. "That's why my place here does so well. Folks know that Miss Thea's gonna treat them right."

"Thank you, Miss Thea. You are a rare jewel, I tell you what," Arthur says.

Thea beams under Arthur's praise. "Now. Why are y'all headin' back to Memphis? Ain't it dangerous for you to be goin' down there, especially now, with you showin' so much?"

"My brother is getting married," Gwen says. "I can't miss it."

"No, you sho'nuff can't," Thea agrees. "Just be careful, is all I ask. I'll be prayin' for you."

"Thank you. Guinevere's goin' to sing at the wedding, too," Arthur says, smiling at her.

"You sing? Of course you sing, why am I even askin'? What're you goin' to sing?"

"_Amazing Grace,_ with Merlin," Gwen says.

"Merlin sings, too?"

"Merlin plays piano," Gwen says. "He didn't tell you? He's a jazz pianist."

"Really? No, he didn't say. If he ever comes back through here I'm gonna have to give him such a time," she says, crossing her arms in front of her ample chest.

"You most definitely should do that," Arthur says, chuckling. "He's really very good, though. You wouldn't think it to look at him or hear him speak with that accent o' his, but he knows what he's doin' with a piano."

"Anyway, we're gonna stay at Arthur's daddy's house and probably not go out much 'cept to the rehearsal and the weddin'," Gwen says. "If people want to see us, they'll have to come to us. It's a shame, but neither of us wants any trouble. Elyan said that they would have waited, but Latoya has a granny that's ailin', so they're havin' the weddin' sooner."

"Granny gets what Granny wants, I know that," Thea nods, understanding. "So your daddy is fine with your bein' married to a colored girl?" she asks Arthur point-blank.

"Yes, he is, actually. His concerns have been mainly for our safety," Arthur says. "He, um, was raised in Boston, not Memphis. My mama was from Memphis, so…"

"Hmm. Your mama gone, Baby?"

Arthur nods. "She would have loved Guinevere, though," he says, reaching across the table to take Gwen's hand. They are both done eating.

"You are an interesting young man, Arthur, I will say that. Now. I'm gonna take these dishes back and I'm comin' back with a piece o' paper and a pencil and some cornbread for y'all to take with." Thea stands and clears their dishes.

"I'm gonna visit the restroom one more time," Gwen says. She's been careful not to guzzle her sweet tea, delicious though it was.

When she returns, Arthur is writing their address on the paper Thea has brought him.

"This is the new house's address," he says, handing it over. "You got a card or a take-out menu or somethin' with an address, so we can let you know when the baby comes?"

Thea produces a card from some hidden pocket or her cleavage or thin air, Arthur's not sure which. "Thanks," he says, taking it and placing it in his wallet.

"You best be sendin' me a photo, too. Now come here and give me hugs. I imagine you'll be wantin' to get on the road 'fore it gets too late," she says, holding her arms out.

"Um, are you forgettin' something?" Arthur asks.

"No," Thea says, somewhat emphatically.

"The bill?" he asks, a little quieter.

"I'm havin' a special today. 100% off for handsome blonde men and their pregnant wives. Now come here," she orders.

"Thank you," Arthur decides to accept the hospitality without arguing, not wanting to incur her wrath. He hugs her tightly and then kisses her cheek. "Miss Thea, are you blushin'?"

"Mister Arthur, can you even tell?" she teases, but her face does feel warm.

"Actually, I can," he smirks.

Gwen hugs Thea next, and Thea takes the opportunity to lay her hand on Gwen's swollen belly. "May I?" she asks, her hand hovering.

"Of course," Gwen says. "Oh. Over here, though," she says, taking Thea's hand. The baby has just kicked, so Gwen is hoping he'll do it again for Thea.

A moment later, Baby kicks again, and Thea squeals delightedly. Arthur chuckles at her. "He's gotten to feel that, right?" Thea asks.

"Are you kidding? If he had his way, his hands would be on my stomach all the time," Gwen says with a laugh.

"You send my love to Merlin and Elyan, now, and give the groom a kiss for me," Thea says, giving instructions now.

"Of course," Arthur says. "I'll let Guinevere give him your kiss, though," he adds, laughing. They start to leave, and Thea's voice stops them another moment.

"Children, before you go, you gotta make a promise to old Miss Thea," she says, her voice turning serious.

"Of course," Arthur says, interested.

"Don't never let that child think he's anything less than wonderful. Promise me that."

Gwen smiles warmly. "We promise," she says, and Arthur nods beside her, wrapping his arm around his wife.

xXx

They arrive at Uther's house late Thursday night, which suits them just fine. Gwen is asleep, and much as it pains Arthur to wake her, he has to because he can't get her out of the car without jostling her too much now.

Uther greets them at the door and smiles at the sleepy Gwen. Arthur guides her up the stairs to his old room. He is pulling her shoes off for her when Uther arrives with Gwen's suitcase.

"Thanks, Pop," Arthur says quietly.

"Thought she might like her nightgown," Uther says. He leaves to let Arthur help her to bed.

"I can do it," Gwen protests weakly, but she doesn't really seem to be making an effort.

"I know you can, I'm just helpin'," Arthur says, sliding her nightgown over her head. "Lie down and go back to sleep, darlin'. I'm gonna get the rest of our things and visit with Pop a bit, but I'll be up before you know it."

"Call Elyan," Gwen mutters, snuggling into the covers.

"I will," he says, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Arthur heads downstairs to find that Uther has brought the rest of their things in and is holding the bag from Miss Thea's in his hand, puzzling over it.

"What is this?" he asks.

"The best cornbread in the entire world, Pop," Arthur says, taking it from him. "From a soul food place in Illinois that Guinevere and I discovered when we moved."

Uther follows Arthur into the kitchen, where Arthur places the bread on the counter. "We'll cut into that tomorrow," he says.

"Does she always sleep that heavy?" Uther asks, smiling.

"Just since she's been pregnant. Doctor says it probably won't last too much longer. She's petite, so the baby's going to start making her pretty uncomfortable pretty soon."

"Your mother didn't sleep well at all when she was pregnant with you," Uther says, helping Arthur carry the rest of their things up. There's not much; a garment bag and Arthur's suitcase.

"Oh?" Arthur asks.

"Yeah, you were pretty active, I guess. Makes sense, you never stopped moving when you were a child, either. That's how we knew you were sick: you stopped moving and stopped talking."

"Was I that bad?"

"Just… active. Like I said," Uther says, chuckling.

"I need to call Elyan and let him know we're here," Arthur says, reaching for the phone and dialing the number he still knows by heart. They chat for a minute, and Elyan promises to stop over in the morning. Then Arthur quickly calls Merlin and is surprised to discover that his friend is not home.

"I bet he's at Gwaine's," Arthur says. He briefly considers going out there for a minute, but decides against it. _It wouldn't be fair to Guinevere,_ he reasons. _Plus I know I would stay longer than I intend to._

"Merlin's not home," Arthur says to his father, joining him in the living room where Uther is sitting with a newspaper and smoking a pipe.

"He's playing tonight at Gwaine's," Uther says, setting his paper down.

"How do you know? Oh, Hunith," Arthur reasons. He yawns and stretches.

"Go to bed, Son," Uther says. "You were no doubt up very early. I'll be turning in, soon, myself."

"Thanks, Pop, I'm beat," Arthur says standing. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too. I'm happy you're doing so well up there. You'll have to tell me all about the house tomorrow."

"Guinevere brought pictures," Arthur says, smiling. "She goes there almost every day, now that she's done working."

"Is she going back to work after the baby is born?" Uther asks, curious.

"No. She says she wants to stay home. I made it very clear that it was her choice and I would support whatever she wanted to do," Arthur says.

"Smart man," Uther says. "Go to bed before you fall over."

"Good night, Pop."

"Good night, Arthur."

Arthur trudges up the stairs to his room, realizing how exhausted he actually is. _Good thing I didn't go to Gwaine's. That would have been a huge mistake._ He undresses down to his briefs and climbs into bed next to his Guinevere. He wraps his arms around her and she sighs in her sleep, as if she knows he's joined her.

Arthur kisses her head and is asleep the second his eyes close.

**SECOND A/N: So I've written an original fic that's available for purchase on Amazon for Kindle or Kindle apps for iPad or smartphone. There's a link on my profile page, please check it out and maybe drop a few measley dollars!**


	32. Chapter 32

Gwen is up early, too anxious and excited to sleep in. She takes a shower, comes back to their room, and sits down on the bed in her bathrobe, staring at the wall. A minute later her head finds the pillow and she is falling back to sleep.

Arthur wakes an hour later. He sees Gwen lying there, sleeping on top of the covers in her robe and smelling freshly-showered. He shakes his head and chuckles at her. The clock says 8:12.

Arthur goes to the bathroom, empties his bladder, and brushes his teeth. He hears his father downstairs, no doubt drinking his coffee. He can hear him saying something to his maid, Sefa, as she makes his breakfast. Then he returns to his room, shuts his door, and pulls his wife into his arms.

Gwen sighs and cuddles into him. Her robe slips a bit as she does so, and it opens just enough to distract Arthur. He is not tired in the slightest, and now he's having thoughts.

Arthur kisses her neck and she sighs again. He kisses her collarbone, softly, and she whimpers a little. Grinning now, he starts kissing her breasts.

"Arthur…"

"Mmm."

"Arthur," she says again, a little sterner. "Your daddy might hear…"

"Pop's downstairs, havin' his breakfast," he mutters against her skin, pulling the tie to her robe.

"It's… disrespectful, Baby… oh, right there…"

Arthur chuckles, knowing he's winning her over. He lifts his head. "We'll just have to be quiet, then, won't we?"

"Arthur," she chides, looking down at him, but then she drops her head back onto the pillow and gives up. He's just slid his hand into her opened robe, caressing her swollen belly with a feather-light hand. He returns his lips to her breast, kissing softly, gently suckling her, careful not to go overboard because he knows they're sensitive.

Arthur moves carefully over her, pushing impatiently at her robe, kneeling between her knees. She reaches for his briefs and pulls at them. He chuckles smugly and pulls them off while she shrugs out of her robe.

"This way," he says, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, straddling his waist.

She scowls at him, frowning down at her torso.

"You look more beautiful every day, Guinevere," he says, moving his hands up to caress her stomach again, ghosting up over her breasts to reach her face. He draws her down to him, kissing her softly, lingering over her lips. "I love you so much," he murmurs, his lips on her jaw, her neck.

"Even though I'm all swelled up like a big ol' balloon?" she whispers, angling her head so he can have better access to her neck.

"Especially because of that," he says, and she is lost, overcome with emotion because of his words, her hormones, and the general anxiety over being back here. She grabs his face and brings it back to her lips, kissing him ardently, rubbing herself against him a little.

"God…" Arthur groans once they break apart. He takes her hips and gently slides her back and over him, sheathing himself within her.

"Mmm," Gwen moans, dropping her head back, rocking on her knees as he lifts his hips into her, joining languidly.

"Come back down here," Arthur says, pulling her forward to kiss her again. Her stomach makes it difficult to keep moving, so they pause to kiss, then Gwen leans back again, taking Arthur's hands in hers and moving them to her breasts.

They resume moving, faster now, Arthur gently caressing her breasts, occasionally whispering words of love that Gwen can't even really hear.

"Oh…" she breathes, bracing her hands on his chest now, picking up speed again. Arthur's hands drop to her hips again, helping. Gwen whimpers and bites her lip, trying to be quiet.

"Ah," Arthur grunts softly, digging his fingers into her hips. "Oh, Guinevere," he says, louder.

"Shh…" she shushes, then, "oh…" again. She's falling fast, breathing rapidly, pressing her lips together to keep herself quiet. She gasps suddenly, tightening around Arthur as she climaxes over him, digging her nails into his chest.

"Ahmmm…" Arthur groans, muffled when Gwen's hand clamps over his mouth to quiet his outburst as he releases and stills within her.

"You better hope your daddy didn't hear you," Gwen says, tucked against his side now, pulling the sheet back up over them.

"He's readin' his paper and havin' his breakfast. And he's far enough away," Arthur says dismissively. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm, yes, I did," she says, nuzzling his chest a little. "You?"

"Like the dead," he declares.

"So this was your room?"

"Yup," he says. "Can't you tell?"

Gwen looks around the room. Model cars, mostly Corvettes. A miniature St. Louis Cardinals helmet. A box of record albums. A Harvard pennant. "Yes, I reckon so." She pauses a moment. "So how many girls have you had up here?"

"What?"

"You heard me," she says, smirking up at him.

"Maybe a couple," he admits.

"_Maybe_ a couple?" she laughs.

"Okay… um, three, I think. But you're the only one that let me go all the way," he says, smirking back.

"Well, that's reassurin'. I think."

"Darlin', you know nothin' and no one before you matters, right?"

Gwen leans up and kisses him. "Better not," she says, grinning at him.

"Come on, I'm hungry. Let's get dressed and have some breakfast."

xXx

The wedding rehearsal goes smoothly, with just a few things that needed ironing out. Everyone was impressed with Merlin's playing and Gwen's singing, but Gwen couldn't help but notice that the members of Latoya's family were all carefully polite to her, as if they'd been warned to tread lightly.

"I noticed that, too," Merlin says quietly in the back of the church while they wait for the reverend to finish his last-minute instructions.

"It's gettin' on my nerves. I wish they'd just relax. I feel like a marked woman," she whispers.

The rehearsal dinner, traditionally hosted by the groom's family, is at Elyan's house. He's enlisted the help of Gwaine and some other friends and is holding a big barbecue.

Arthur and Gwen thought it would be best if Arthur stayed home with his father, so Gwen is left to her own devices. She greets Gwaine warmly, and, true to form, he flirts shamelessly with her, despite the fact that she is married and seven months pregnant. Finally she just walks away, shaking her head. Aaron is happy to see her, too, and carefully hugs her hello, trying not to get his sauce-smeared apron on her clothing. Fred, who she doesn't know as well, waves and gives her a friendly smile from his post roasting corn on the cob.

Latoya's ailing granny holds court from her wheelchair in the center of the action. She squeezes Gwen's hand and gives her a small smile when they are introduced. Gwen's heart goes out to their family; Granny is small and frail and seated with a cushion behind her and a shawl wrapped around her, even in the 80-plus degree heat.

Toya's other grandmother, on her mother's side, is younger and healthier. Her name is Mary but insists that Gwen call her Gran, because "everyone does." She's gregarious and friendly, and she's the first person to come to Gwen's defense when someone finally makes a remark about Gwen's marriage.

Latoya's cousin Celia, one of the bridesmaids, had been giving Gwen dark looks as soon as Gwen arrived at the church. Finally she decides to say something.

"So where's your rich white husband?" she asks.

"Oh, um…" Gwen starts, a little surprised, "he's at home spendin' time with his daddy."

"He too good to be here with us?" she asks. "Didn't want to dirty his hands by bein' seen here with us colored folks?"

"Uh, no, he… he just hasn't seen his father in months, so…" Gwen stammers.

"Why are you sittin' over here by yourself like some princess? You think you're better than all of us now 'cause you snared a white man?"

"What? No, o' course not. I'm sorry, have I done somethin' to offend you?" Gwen asks.

"I just don't understand why you had to run off with one o' _them,_" she says. "Take it from me, girl, white folks ain't nothin' but trouble. You mark my words, you'll be on the street before you're thirty, tryin' to take care o' that baby alone," Celia says.

_She's talkin' like she has experience in this area,_ Gwen realizes. "I'm… I'm sorry you feel that way," is all she says.

"Celia," Mary comes marching over, almost as if she knows what's been going on. "Come help me with Granny's plate," she says pointedly, pulling Celia gently away from Gwen.

As they walk away, Gwen overhears Mary say quietly, "You don't know nothin' 'bout her situation, so don't go flappin' your lips like you know this child. Just because you had a…" Her voice trails off, and Gwen can't hear any more. She walks to the back porch, where there are some coolers set with beverages inside. She bends and takes a bottle of Coke out, wondering what it was that happened to Celia.

_First Sefa, now this,_ Gwen thinks sadly, remembering back to the remarkably chilly reception she received from Uther's maid at breakfast this morning.

_"Sefa, you of course remember Arthur," Uther says, and Sefa smiles and nods._

_ "Hello, Mister Arthur, it's good to see you again," she says politely._

_ "And this is my daughter-in-law, Gwen," Uther introduces._

_ "Hello, Sefa, nice to meet you," Gwen says, smiling warmly at the girl._

_ "Hello," Sefa answers curtly, not looking at Gwen. "Coffee, Mister Arthur?" she asks._

_ "Yes, please," Arthur answers, sitting at the table. "Guinevere, would you like anything?"_

_ "Wouldn't say no to a glass of orange juice," Gwen says, sitting as well. It did not escape her notice that Sefa only offered coffee to Arthur._

_ Sefa brings Arthur his coffee, setting it gently in front of him. Then she returns after what seems like an unnecessarily long time and plunks down a glass of orange juice in front of Gwen, setting it down so hard that some spills. Gwen reflexively wipes the spill with a napkin, idly wondering if Sefa spit in it._

_ Arthur looks at Gwen, meeting her eyes as if to say _I noticed it, too. _His expression darkens and he shoots a look at his father, who is regarding his maid with a raised eyebrow and a scowl._

_ "Sefa, are there any scrambled eggs left?" Uther asks, his voice sounding suddenly tired. "Eggs?" he asks Arthur and Gwen._

_ "Sure," Arthur says. He knows Gwen wants toast with jam, though, so he says, "Sefa, we could do with some toast, if you don't mind." His jaw is clenched and he keeps shooting looks at Uther, clearly willing him to say something to the maid about how rude she's being._

_ Gwen shifts in her seat, uncomfortable both with being waited on and whatever bee that seems to be in Sefa's bonnet. "Is she sweet on you?" she asks Arthur quietly, wondering if it's simple jealousy._

_ "I don't think so. Last I knew she had a boyfriend," Arthur whispers. "Pop, is Sefa still seeing that James fellow?"_

_ "I think so. I'm not sure what her problem is, but I will be speaking to her about it later," Uther says, frowning._

_ "You could say something now," Arthur growls._

_ "I do not berate my staff publicly. Even if it is just family. You know this, Arthur," Uther whispers back._

_ Sefa brings a pan of eggs and some toast on a plate over and sets them on the table._

_ "Jam?" Arthur barks at Sefa, pointedly pushing the plate with the toast over to Gwen._

_ "Yes, sir," Sefa says shortly, and this time she returns faster than she did with Gwen's juice, possibly having sensed Arthur's ire. However, she still sets the jar next to Arthur, even though Gwen is closer and is clearly the one who is going to be using it._

_ "Thank you, Sefa, that will be all for now," Uther says. "Oh, and Sefa, I would like a word in an hour. My study," he adds sharply_

_ "Yes, sir," she says quietly, flushing red with sudden worry. She spins on her heel and disappears._

_ Uther pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry, Gwen. I'm horribly embarrassed, actually," Uther says, looking at Gwen. "I assure you I will be speaking to her about her behavior."_

_ "Don't go to any trouble on my account, Mr. Pendragon," Gwen says quietly, spreading jam on her toast._

_ "It's no trouble. Her behavior was completely unacceptable. If I don't talk to her, Arthur may decide to have a few choice words with her himself, and I don't think we want that. And for heaven's sake, Gwen, you may call me Uther. Or even Pop, if you feel comfortable enough."_

_ Gwen smiles and looks down. "All right. Thank you, Uther." She sighs. "She probably thinks it's wrong that Arthur married me."_

_ "I don't think she's jealous," Uther says. "She's been dating the same young man for several months now."_

_ "Pop, she means because I'm white and she's colored. That's what's got Sefa all in a snit," Arthur says, setting his fork down rather harder than necessary. "She obviously thinks that races shouldn't mix, and here we sit, well, mixin'." He waves his hand at Gwen's stomach to illustrate his point. "Ignorant."_

_ "Probably how she was raised," Gwen points out. "We only know what we've been told, and sometimes we get told the wrong things." She notices the look Arthur is giving her. "Doesn't make it right, and it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, but it's just how things are. You see it all the time, Arthur."_

_ "I know," Arthur answers, taking Gwen's hand a moment to kiss her knuckles._

_ "Whatever the reason, I will get to the bottom of it, and I promise you she will be more polite the next time you see her," Uther promises._

_ Gwen nibbles her toast, not sure how she feels about Uther disciplining his trusted maid because of her._

_ By lunch, Sefa is noticeably quieter, but she is treating Gwen with the same respect that she had showed Arthur at breakfast. Gwen doesn't know how grudgingly she's doing this, but she feels like telling the girl that she only has to pretend through tomorrow afternoon, until they go to the wedding._

Gwen turns around and Mary is standing right there, an apologetic smile on her face.

"Sorry 'bout that, child, Celia's got… history," Mary says cryptically.

"Thank you, Gran, I kinda had a feelin' that she did," Gwen says.

"Now: You go get yourself some food; that baby growin' in there needs some proper soul food or he ain't gon' turn out right," Mary says, ushering Gwen over to the big table where Gwaine has everything laid out. About half the guests have been through the line, and Gwen had been waiting until the line got shorter before stepping over.

"Oh, don't you worry 'bout that. I still cook Southern, even though we're livin' in the north," Gwen says, smiling.

"That's right, you keep on doin' that, Sugar," Mary says. "Gwaine, you are one handsome white boy," she says, reaching over to pat his cheek before taking a plate. "And you can cook. Why is it you still single?"

"Still waitin' for the right gal to come and sweep me off my feet," Gwaine grins at her. "And all the good ones are taken already," he adds, winking at her.

"Stop it, you, my husband is right over there," Mary says, feigning indignation.

"Like I said," Gwaine says, grinning again. "Gwen, you gonna eat _all_ those ribs?"

"Baby likes ribs these days," Gwen says, licking a finger where an errant bit of meat smeared some sauce. "Gwaine, you need to make a trip up to Mattoon, Illinois, to Althea's Soul Food Kitchen. Miss Thea could show you a thing or two," Gwen says, smirking at him. "About food, I mean. Mostly," she grins, leaving Gwaine gaping and speechless as she walks away. Again.

Gwen sits with Merlin, who is alone at a table. He doesn't seem bothered by it. "Merlin, you need to stop sendin' gifts for the baby," Gwen says, but she's smiling at him.

"Gotta keep pace with Morgana," Merlin says, his mouth full of cole slaw.

"How do you know that Morgana is bein' just as ridiculous?" Gwen asks.

"Arthur tells me. And Morgana occasionally writes. We're friends," he says pointedly.

"Speaking of which, how come you ain't found yourself a young lady?" Gwen asks.

"Well…" Merlin starts, his ears turning pink already.

"Merlin!"

"Okay, she's Vivian's cousin. She's visiting from New York. She came to the office to see where Viv works, and…"

"Wait, _Viv?_ She's got a nickname now? Has Percy gone and turned her human?" Gwen asks.

"Nearly," Merlin chuckles. "Anyway, her cousin is really nice. And pretty. And smart. And pretty."

"What's her name?" Gwen asks.

"Freya. You'll get to meet her tomorrow; I'm bringing her to the wedding. Percy and Viv will be there, too, and Duncan and Ezra."

"Oh, it'll be nice to see them all. That was good of Elyan to invite them. You know, 'cause of Daddy and all."

"From what Percy tells me, they're very excited," Merlin says.

"I can't wait to meet Freya," Gwen smiles. "That's a pretty name."

"I thought so," Merlin says, turning pink again. "She likes my accent," he admits, grinning sheepishly at her.

They eat quietly for a bit, and Gwen looks over and sees Elyan's neighbor Mrs. Barry come out on the back porch. She meets the older woman's eye and waves. Mrs. Barry waves back enthusiastically, clearly happy to see Gwen.

"Excuse me a minute, Merlin, I've just gotta go say hello to Mrs. Barry," Gwen says. She wipes her face with her napkin and stands. When her swollen stomach emerges from behind the table, she chuckles at the shock on her former neighbor's face.

Gwen climbs the steps to Mrs. Barry's back porch and greets her with a hug.

"I knew you was fixin' to run off with that pretty white boy," Mrs. Barry says, hugging her warmly. "I seen the way he was lookin' at you."

"I'm sure there was a bit of gossip after we disappeared," Gwen says.

"Some. Girl, I hope he married you before he got you that way," she says, indicating Gwen's belly.

Gwen holds up her left hand as an answer. "Probably on same day, actually," she admits, laughing. "We were married over Thanksgiving weekend and I found out I was expectin' at Christmas."

"Nothin' like a man who gets straight to the point," Mrs. Barry says, laughing. "He good to you?" she asks, serious now.

"He treats me like a queen, Mrs. Barry," Gwen says. "We're very happy in Milwaukee."

"Good. As long as he don't beat you or make you feel like you's less, I'm satisfied. Love ain't got no eyes, you know. Love don't care what color a person's skin is or if they's got money or even if they's even pretty. Love just is, Baby."

Tears well in Gwen's eyes; she's grateful to hear a sympathetic voice after Sefa and Celia. "Thank you for understanding that," she says. "It was… worrisome for me to come back down here, 'specially like this." Gwen points to her stomach.

"Where is that husband o' yours, anyway?" she looks around Elyan's back yard.

"At home with his father. We thought it best for him to stay home tonight. He'll be at the weddin' tomorrow," Gwen says.

"You make sure you introduce me, then," Mrs. Barry says, raising her eyebrows at Gwen.

"Of course," she laughs.

"Pat!" Mary's voice carries across the yard to them. "You get your tail over here and get you some dinner! We got plenty; you know you and Robert are dyin' from the smell!"

Mrs. Barry sighs, but she is smiling. "She saw right through me, she did," she whispers to Gwen. "Knew just why I came out here." She looks over at Mary, who is standing with her hands on her hips, giving her an expression like _Well?_

"Lemme get Robert and put some proper shoes on, then," she yells back. "Save me a seat, child, I want to meet that skinny one with the dark hair. Been hearin' things 'bout him and his music."

"I will," Gwen says, descending the stairs and heading back to her plate.

xXx

Gwen doesn't stay too late, using her pregnancy as an excuse to go home just as it starts to get dark.

"Don't stay out too late with the boys, now. Toya won't take kindly to a hungover groom," Gwen tells Elyan. She's said her goodbyes to everyone else and is standing by her car (well, Arthur's Cadillac) with her brother.

"I won't. She already warned me," he chuckles. "We just gonna go to Gwaine's later anyway, nothin' big."

"Elyan Thomas, are you growin' up on me?" Gwen asks, smiling at him.

"Hope so," Elyan admits, looking at his shoes.

"Arthur says to call him if you need anything tomorrow," Gwen says.

"Okay. Toya's got this thing planned to the letter, so we should be okay. You and Merlin sounded really good tonight, if I didn't tell you already."

"Thanks. It's a little harder to sing, I'm discoverin'. Baby is takin' up space and I can't get as much air in my lungs," she says.

"Really?"

Gwen shrugs. "It's only temporary."

"Well, I didn't notice nothin'."

Gwen yawns. "All right, I should go. Need to put my feet up."

"Drive safe. Make Arthur give you a foot rub," he says, grinning at her.

"Not a bad idea. See you tomorrow, Little Brother. Love you," Gwen says, hugging him one more time and kissing his cheek.

"Love you, too."

Gwen arrives back at Uther's ten minutes later, takes her shoes off and flops onto the sofa next to Arthur.

"Tired, darlin'?" Arthur asks, pulling her into his arms.

"Yep. Where's Uther?"

"Bed. He's an early bird, usually. He stayed up last night 'cause he was waitin' for us."

"Mmm," Gwen nods. They sit quietly, staring at the television.

"How was the rehearsal?"

"Mostly good. Gwaine says hey."

"I'll see him tomorrow, prob'ly."

She nods.

A few minutes later, Arthur speaks again. "You're quiet. Everything all right?"

Gwen sighs. "It's stupid."

"Whatever it is, it's not," Arthur counters. _Someone must have said something that upset her._

Gwen sits up. "I mean, I know I'm not her, and I know _you're_ not… whoever she went 'round with, but…"

"Guinevere, can you back up a bit? I feel like I switched on the show halfway through, here."

She looks at Arthur. "Just… promise me that you're not goin' to leave me so I have to take care o' this baby alone," she says quietly.

Arthur looks aghast. He pulls her into his arms, wrapping them protectively around her. "I promise I will never leave you Guinevere. _Never._ You are my wife. No, not just that. You are my _life,_ darlin', and I love you more than I thought it possible to love anyone," he promises, kissing her hair, holding her comfortingly in his lap. "Who put this thought into your head?" he asks quietly.

Gwen tells him about Celia and what she said. "I told you it was stupid; I don't know why I let her words get to me. We're not them."

"Toya's Gran sounds like good people. I'm glad she stepped in," Arthur says.

"Me too, but I can't help but feel bad for Celia. Obviously she's been through somethin'."

"No one said?"

"No, and it's really not my business. I don't know that girl from Adam."

"Well, you _do_ know me. Better than I know myself, most of the time. And you know I _ain't_ goin' to leave you."

"I know," she sighs, resting her head on his shoulder. "Thank you. I love you, Baby."

"I love you, too," he says, kissing her forehead now. "Let's go up to bed."

"Okay," Gwen says, climbing awkwardly out of Arthur's lap, with his help. She looks down at her feet, which look a little swollen. "Baby?"  
"Yes?" Arthur asks, switching the television off.

"Would you rub my feet? They're all puffy," she frowns down at them.

"Of course," Arthur says, always willing to help make her more comfortable, especially if it involves touching her. Even if it is her feet.

They walk up the stairs, and Gwen stops. "Oh."

"Everything okay?"

"Baby's awake. Here," she says, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. A second later Arthur feels a wave pass under his hand, like the baby is doing barrel rolls inside Gwen.

"He sure as hell is!" Arthur laughs. Then he gets kicked. "That never gets old," he smiles.

"Oh, yes, it does," Gwen says, disagreeing mildly. She takes his hand and leads him up to their room.

xXx

The morning of the wedding is bright and sunny, with just enough of a breeze to make things comfortable. Perfect.

Gwen is up and showered, her hair washed and hanging in damp ringlets around her shoulders and down her back.

"You're not goin' to put your hair up, are you?" Arthur asks, coming up behind her and nuzzling her curls, inhaling her honeysuckle scent.

"I was thinkin' 'bout it," Gwen says to his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"Oh." He sounds disappointed. His hands drop from where they were rubbing her belly.

"You like it down," she states.

"Well, yeah."

"I'll leave it mostly down, but I gotta keep it out of my face," she says, and he smiles.

"Thank you," he says, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

After breakfast, the doorbell rings. It's Elyan, with a wrapped package in his hands.

"Mr. Thompson, sir," Sefa introduces him, carefully polite, as she shows Elyan into the dining room where they are still lingering, despite having finished eating a half an hour ago. Arthur had been telling Uther about his work in Milwaukee.

"Elyan!" Gwen exclaims. "I didn't expect to see you until the weddin'!"

"Well, did you honestly think I would forget that your birthday is Monday?" Elyan says, offering her the package. It's fairly large, about the size of a small television.

"I wasn't gonna say anythin', seein' as how it's your weddin' this weekend," she grins. "I stopped remindin' him when he turned 18. Figured he was grown enough to remember one date, 'specially because his birthday is only four days later," she tells Arthur and Uther.

Arthur chuckles, remembering that conversation they had so long ago. "Open it," he urges, beyond curious.

"All right, all right," Gwen says, carefully removing the paper. She's put the box on the table, having very little lap, and has to stand to dig into it.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she says, drawing a lovely wooden birdhouse with six separate holes out of the box. "You made this," she smiles. She doesn't need to ask.

"'O course I did," Elyan states proudly. "It's for that big ol' house y'all are buildin'."

"Oh! Can you stay a little bit? I have pictures of the house. I was gonna show Uther. Can you stay so I can show both of you?" she asks, looking up at him with big brown eyes.

He checks his watch. "Yeah, I got time. Havin' my hair cut at 10:30. But I got somethin' else for you, too."

"Somethin' _else?_ Elyan…"

"It's for the baby," he says. "Come on, it's out here."

Gwen follows Elyan, and Arthur and Uther trail behind. In the foyer is a beautiful wooden cradle, just the right size for a newborn. There's a big red bow on it.

"Oh!" Gwen gasps, "El, it's…" She stops, her voice failing as she starts crying, touched that her brother would make something so beautiful and thoughtful for her.

"Very nice," Uther assesses, inspecting the construction as best he can from a small distance. Gwen is on her knees, running her hands over the smooth polished wood, tears still running down her cheeks.

"It's… for when he's too little for the crib yet," Elyan says quietly. "You know, the first month or so…"

Gwen looks up at him, surprised.

"Toya's idea," he shrugs, smiling a little, clearly embarrassed to be a man possessing this knowledge. "She made the blanket and the little mattress inside," he adds.

Gwen presses her hand into the cradle to feel a soft foam mat inside, and pulls out a soft knit blanket in yellow. "She knitted this herself?" Gwen asks.

Elyan nods. "Her granny taught her when she was younger," he says.

"Granny or Gran?" Gwen smiles.

"Granny, I think. I don't think Gran goes in much for handwork," he chuckles.

"It's so soft. Arthur, feel how soft," Gwen says, holding the blanket up. Arthur rubs it between his fingers and nods appraisingly.

Gwen gets to her feet, with Arthur's help, and hugs her brother tightly. "Thank you. This is so wonderful." Her breath hitches again as the tears start up again. She releases her brother and wipes her face. "Stupid hormones," she says, an embarrassed laugh escaping from her lips.

"None of us were thinkin' anything of it, Guinevere," Arthur says.

Gwen takes a deep breath, sniffs once, then quirks her head at Elyan. "You're gonna make one when you have a baby of your own, ain't you?"

"You sound like Toya," he sighs, and she has her answer.

"I'll go get my pictures," Gwen says, heading for the stairs.

"Guinevere, stay here. I'll get them," Arthur says. "You don't need to be climbin' up and down stairs just to get some photos."

xXx

Uther and Elyan are both impressed by the progress of the house and Uther even commends Gwen on her excellent taste.

Before Elyan leaves, Uther asks him if he'd be available to do some work for him. He was so impressed by the birdhouse and cradle, small though they were, that he asks him to rebuild the sagging shelving in his home office. They also briefly discuss the possibility of tearing down and rebuilding the back porch, which is starting to show its age.

Gwen watches her brother leave, proud of him. _He's livin' his life right, now. Mama and Daddy would be proud._


	33. Chapter 33

Gwen sits in a pew in the front, the only representative of the groom's family, Arthur beside her, looking very handsome in his suit. Merlin sits behind them with Freya and the rest of their friends: Gwaine, Percy and Vivian, Leon and Mithian, and Duncan and Ezra and their wives.

The maid of honor, Latoya's younger sister Larissa, has just come up the aisle to stand beside Celia, and soon there are soft coos as a tiny flower girl makes her unsteady way forward. Gwen turns and looks, but she cannot see the child yet. She looks forward and sees Celia gently cajoling the girl forward, encouraging her.

Gwen whips her head around, curious now. She spies the little girl, a darling cherub of about three, with brown ringlets and caramel skin. Celia has a mixed daughter. Gwen looks at Arthur, and she sees that he's had the same realization. Gwen thinks back to last night, to Celia's bitter words. She also remembers quite clearly that Celia had no ring on her left hand.

Arthur reaches for Gwen's hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly, a silent reminder of the promise he made her.

The flower girl toddles unsteadily past them, her new white patent leather shoes poking out from under her pink dress. She looks up at Arthur and he smiles at her. She ducks her head shyly and drops another crumpled handful of flower petals from her basket, her movements deliberate and studious. She's concentrating very hard.

Finally she reaches the front and stands beside her mother, tucking herself into her skirts. Gwen sees Celia look in her direction, her baby's hand clasped in hers now.

Gwen meets her steady gaze and gives her a small smile, hoping to convey that she understands the bridesmaid's words the previous night. Arthur is still holding her hand in his lap, and Gwen hopes that Celia doesn't think she's flaunting.

But then Celia gives Gwen the smallest smile in return, just before the music changes and the guests are bidden to stand.

All eyes turn to the back of the church, but just before Gwen can see the bride, she sees the flower girl clambering back towards the pews and climbing up into the arms of her grandfather, Latoya's uncle, who scoops her up and holds her up so she can see. Her grandmother hands her a small, well-loved stuffed pink pony, obviously a comfort toy of some sort, judging by the way the girl clutches it.

Gwen finally remembers to watch the bride like everyone else. _Distracted. Not good._ Latoya looks beautiful in her white dress, floating down the aisle on her father's arm. She's practically glowing she is so happy.

Gwen smiles and squeezes Arthur's hand.

"Are you disappointed we didn't have a big weddin'?" Arthur asks, whispering in her ear.

"No. What we had was perfect for us," she whispers back.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Now shh."

_I've never seen Elyan looking so happy,_ Gwen thinks, smiling wistfully, knowing their parents are watching over them. Her hand trails over her belly, absentmindedly rubbing it. Arthur gently snatches up her hand again, holding it between his.

xXx

"Gwen, child, that solo was beautiful," Mary tells Gwen at the reception. Dinner has just finished, and everyone is mingling.

"Thank you, Gran. This is my husband, Arthur. Arthur, this is Mary, Latoya's grandmother," Gwen introduces them.

"Pleased to meet you, Arthur," Mary says, shaking his hand. "You take good care of this little girl, you hear me?"

Arthur smiles knowingly.

"You been told this before," Mary smirks.

"Many times. And trust me, Miss Mary, there is nothing I enjoy more than making my Guinevere happy," Arthur says. "She is everything to me." He smiles down at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Good," Mary smiles at him. "Don't ever forget that. And you call me Gran, now, Sugar," she adds, patting his cheek before walking away.

"Fascinating lady," Arthur says. "Where'd Merlin get off to, now? I've barely gotten to talk to him. I think you've seen him more than I have." He looks around. "Ah. Come on," he says, pulling her by the hand to the table where they are all gathered.

The change in Vivian is amazing. She's no longer the silly little bit of fluff she was when they left. She smiles at Arthur and greets him warmly, but doesn't simper or fawn.

"Gwen, nice to see you," she says. "When are you due? Not too far away, from the looks of things," she says, giggling, but sweetly, not irritatingly.

"Late August," Gwen says. "You look wonderful, Vivian. Bein' with Percy seems to agree with you."

Vivian blushes and looks at her hands. "He's… really great, actually. Daddy wasn't too happy at first, but he's grown to accept and even like him now."

"I wouldn't go that far," Percy interjects, smirking.

"He hasn't killed you, sweetheart, which means he likes you. He hasn't even tried to cut off your other leg or anything."

_Did Vivian just make a joke?_ Arthur is floored, watching Percy laugh at Vivian's rather bold tease. He decides to redirect. "Percy, you're looking as… huge as ever," he says. "How's the factory?"

"Doing quite well, considering," he shrugs. "Alined was nearly running the place into the ground. Leon helped me drag it back from the brink."

"Where is Leon, anyway?" Arthur asks. "Didn't Elyan invite him?" He looks at Gwen.

"Yeah, he did," Gwen says. She looks at Merlin. "Merlin, you know where Leon is?"

"He already had plans. He was going to Texas to see his family, and already had the plane tickets and everything. So he isn't even in town right now. Took Mithian with him, too," he says.

"They gettin' serious?" Gwen asks, shifting her weight on her feet. Arthur looks around and grabs an empty chair from a nearby table, holding it for her to sit. He stands behind her with his hands on her shoulders, rubbing softly.

"I think so," Merlin says.

"Must be, if she's meetin' the family. His family is huge," Arthur says.

"I think it was a family reunion, or some such," Merlin says. He casually leans back in his chair and loops his arm over the back of Freya's chair. Arthur has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop his smirk. _I taught him that._

"Freya, how do you like Memphis?" Gwen asks.

"It's hot," she laughs. "But the people are very nice," she adds, glancing shyly at Merlin.

"How long are you staying?" Arthur asks.

"Till August. I think. Maybe a little longer, if Uncle Olaf can stand me. I'm in graduate school, and so I'll definitely need to be back by the fall term."

"Oh, what are you studyin'?" Gwen asks, interested.

"Psychology," she says.

"That must be very interesting," Gwen says.

"It is. Especially right now, what with everything going on with Civil Rights. It's fascinating and sometimes horrifying to see how people interact with one another," she says.

Everyone is listening to Freya now; this is the most any of them have heard her talk, except for Merlin and Vivian.

"I imagine so," Gwen says.

"Yes, when Merlin told me about you and Arthur, well, wow. It's an amazing story. You're so brave, Gwen."

"Am I?" _I ran away. That's brave?_

"Going up against a rich white man to seek justice for your father and safety for his coworkers? And then leaving the world you know to chase your own happiness? I'd say that's pretty brave."

"Oh. I guess I never thought about it that way…"

"Thought about what, what way?" a familiar voice interrupts them. Gwaine leans down and kisses Gwen on the cheek, a beverage in his hand. "Never thought about me, in—"

"Watch it, Gwaine," Arthur says, shoving him on the shoulder. "And keep your lips off my wife."

"Arthur!" Gwen exclaims, but she looks up to see both Arthur and Gwaine laughing, so she relaxes.

"You're gonna name that baby after me, right?" Gwaine asks, hijacking the conversation.

"Not even if you paid me," Gwen answers, laughing.

Gwaine pouts theatrically, and Vivian takes the opportunity to ask, "Well, what _are_ you thinkin' of namin' that baby?"

Gwen smiles an enigmatic smile. "Well, now, that would be tellin', wouldn't it?"

"Aw, please?" Everyone is asking now.

Gwen holds up her hands. "We are not tellin'," she says adamantly.

"We don't want anyone influencin' our decision," Arthur says, smirking a little I've-got-a-secret smile.

"I know that smile," Merlin says. "I'm touched, Arthur, but you really should name the baby after a relative, if you're going that route. Well, at least for the first one."

Gwen laughs more and Arthur rolls his eyes.

"What're y'all laughin' at?" Elyan's voice joins them now. Latoya is on his arm. They're circulating, making the rounds, making sure to talk to everyone.

"The ridiculous prospect of us naming the baby after _Merlin,_" Arthur says, rolling his eyes again.

"That is ridiculous, 'specially 'cause he's gonna be named after me," Elyan boasts.

Now it's Gwen's turn to roll her eyes.

"Elyan, she already told us they weren't tellin'," Toya says, squeezing his arm. "Gwen, that dress is beautiful, did you make that?"

Gwen looks down at her simple lavender sheath dress, sleeveless and flowing. "Yes, I did, thank you. I couldn't find a dress that wasn't all… you know, dowdy. It's like the stores think that just because you're carryin' a baby you should look like an old lady. Arthur's cousin Morgana helped me find this material, and I took a pattern I already had and just altered it some." She shrugs, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Your dress is beautiful, Toya, is it new or family?"

"Family," Toya says, swishing the skirt a bit. "My mama's. Lucky it was long enough, but we did alter it some. It was long-sleeved originally."

"Well, it looks lovely. You're a beautiful bride," Gwen smiles up at her.

"Thank you," Toya says. "We're so glad y'all could come down, too. El and I really wanted you here."

"Wouldn't miss it," Gwen says. "A little risky, but I needed to be here for my brother. I've just been stayin' indoors a lot," she sighs.

"One day, Sister." Toya squeezes her shoulder. "Come on, El, we gotta keep movin' or we won't get to talk to everyone," she says, tapping him on the shoulder. He'd been talking to Percy and Merlin while the ladies discussed dresses.

"Oh. Right. Gwennie, save your feet enough for one dance with your baby brother, all right?" he asks.

"Of course," Gwen says, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"Irish!" a voice shouts from a short distance away.

Merlin turns, "Yeah, Aaron?"

"We's settin' up. Get yo' skinny butt over here, man."

Merlin gives Freya an apologetic smile. "Gotta go. I promise I will dance with you," he says quietly. "We'll be takin' breaks and there'll be recorded music." Then he leans over and kisses her cheek once before standing and striding over to the makeshift stage set up in the corner of the hall. They can all see his ears turning red as he walks away.

xXx

"I don't get to dance with you enough," Arthur says softly, holding Gwen in his arms while Merlin, Aaron, and Fred play "Skylark."

"I guess it's not somethin' a person thinks about while at home," Gwen says. "Though we have a perfectly good record player."

Arthur chuckles, reaching up to stroke her cheek with his finger. "We'll have to make more of an effort. I love holdin' you in my arms," he says.

"Every time you hold me in your arms at home, you start gettin' ideas, though," she says, looking up at him through her lashes.

He leans down close. "I'm gettin' ideas now, too. Location don't matter, darlin'."

She swats his chest lightly. "You behave yourself," she says, giggling.

"I always behave myself," he protests, his hands stroking her back.

She makes a noise, blowing exasperatedly through her pursed lips, suggesting she doesn't quite agree.

"Most of the time," he amends, pulling her closer. Gwen gives up and rests her head on his chest, closing her eyes for a moment.

"It's nice to see Percy attempting to dance with Vivian," Arthur says quietly. Gwen opens her eyes and sees the large man basically swaying in place, moving his feet very slightly. "It must be hard for him. He walks very well, but I know stairs give him trouble."

Gwen smiles at them, noting how Vivian gazes up at Percy. He's over a foot taller than she is, and she doesn't seem to be caring one bit about the stiff neck she's surely getting. "He does it for her," Gwen says. "Look at how they're looking at each other."

"I recognize those looks," Arthur says, smiling down at Gwen. He leans down and kisses her lips softly and chastely, aware that they are not alone on the dance floor.

"We should get Vivian a box to stand on, though," Gwen says, smiling impishly.

xXx

Gwen is tired. She's danced with Elyan, Gwaine, Merlin, Latoya's brother Deon, Latoya's father, and Arthur (several times). She's had cake, saw Larissa catch her sister's bouquet, and laughed like crazy when Gwaine caught Toya's garter. She is ready to go home now.

Gwen needed the restroom before they left, and when she emerges she sees Celia approaching, perhaps heading to the bathroom, her daughter in her arms. The child is asleep, her head on her mother's shoulder.

"Gwen," Celia says softly. Gwen walks over. "I want to apologize for yesterday," she starts.

"It's all right," Gwen says. "I… I think I know where you're comin' from. I think I did last night, even."

"Gran was right, though. I don't know you. I don't know your life. Toya told me some o' what you and your man been through. And… I can see now that your situation is completely different than mine was. Your man loves you. I only thought mine did." Her daughter squirms a little and Celia adjusts her hold on her and shushes her softly.

"Your daughter is beautiful," Gwen says, reaching up to stroke the girl's curls softly. "Her name is Natasha?" She remembers reading it in the program.

"Yeah, but mostly we calls her Tasha," Celia smiles. "She's the only good that came out o' that man."

"Celia, a wise woman gave me some advice recently for my baby. I'd… I'd like to pass it on to you, if you don't mind," Gwen says.

Celia looks intrigued. "All right, let's hear it."

"She told me 'Don't never let that child think he's anything less than wonderful.' Tasha is a special girl, 'cause she's your girl. Make sure she knows it. Don't let anyone make her feel less-than."

Celia smiles slowly, then nods. "That's good advice. Who said that to you?"

"A woman that owns a soul food restaurant in Illinois," Gwen says, chuckling.

"Oh, well, that's advice worth heedin', then, ain't it?" Celia says, quite sincerely.

"I believe it is," Gwen says.

"Guinevere?" Arthur has come looking for her now. "Oh, sorry," he apologizes, seeing her talking with Celia.

"It's all right," Gwen says, reaching her hand out to Arthur, indicating that he should come over. "Arthur, this is Toya's cousin Celia and her daughter Tasha. Celia, my husband, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you," Arthur says, nodding because Celia's hands are quite full.

"Hello," Celia says.

"That's one tired baby," Arthur says, smiling at Tasha, who is now drooling slightly on the shoulder of her mother's dress. "She's cute."

"Thank you," Celia says. "She's heavy," she laughs.

"We should go so you can sit. Also Guinevere looks like she's fixin' to fall asleep on her feet," Arthur says. "Have a good night."

"You, too. Thanks again, Gwen," Celia says, smiling at her again.

"You take care of yourself as well as that baby," Gwen says, reaching over and squeezing Celia's unoccupied shoulder lightly.

"I will. Good luck with yours," she says, looking down at Gwen's belly.

"Thanks. I'll make sure Toya passes along the message when we have it."

"I'd like that, thanks."

xXx

Arthur and Gwen leave early Sunday morning. Merlin and Freya show up to say goodbye. They both look like they haven't slept much, but Merlin really wanted to see them off. Because he had another gift for the baby, of course. Some books this time.

They also have news.

"Turns out Percy popped the question to Vivian last night," Merlin says.

"Really?" Gwen exclaims.

"Yeah, it was right after you left, actually. They disappeared for a bit, and we were all startin' to wonder if they snuck off somewhere…"

"Or went home," Freya interjects, poking Merlin on the arm.

"Or went home," Merlin allows. "But then they came back in and Vivian was practically jumpin' out of her skin, wavin' her left hand around."

"Interesting time to propose," Arthur says.

"Oh, he's been planning it," Merlin says. "He even got Olaf's permission and everything."

"Wonder how he swung that," Arthur chuckles.

"Well, I can't help thinking that the fact that he's got his own company didn't hurt his case," Merlin says, rolling his eyes.

"Merlin, what a thing to say," Gwen says.

"Guinevere, you don't know Olaf. Merlin's probably right. Remember how Vivian was before? She was everything Olaf raised her to be."

"Oh. Wow. Percy really must have had his hands full with her for a while," Gwen muses.

"Yeah, there were some fights," Merlin says. "When they were trying to figure each other out. But once they found middle ground, once Percy dragged her down to earth and she dragged him out of his shell and made him feel like he was a whole man again, they've been good."

"Apparently," Arthur chuckles. He checks his watch, his birthday present from Gwen back in late March. "We should get goin'."

The drive home is largely uneventful. The high point is of course their visit to the closed-but-open-for-them Althea's Soul Food Kitchen, in which they meet Thea's elusive husband and she gives them a blanket for the baby that she "threw together" over the weekend. It's blue, which makes Gwen wonder if their friend knows something that they don't. When pressed, Thea refuses to comment beyond, "Well, if Baby is a girl, then she'll just be a girl with a blue blanket, then, won't she?"

Gwen sleeps a bit after lunch at Miss Thea's, her head on Arthur's shoulder. When she wakes, they are in Chicago.

"Sorry," she says sleepily. "I've been sleepin' a lot with this pregnancy."

"Don't apologize," Arthur says, smiling at her. "If Baby wants you to sleep, then you should sleep."

They cross the state line into Wisconsin, and as they head north through Kenosha and Racine, Gwen notices Arthur getting fidgety.

"Baby, is something troublin' you?" she asks.

"What? No, why?"

"You look like someone put fire ants in your britches."

He grins guiltily at her, but denies that there is anything amiss. "Just happy to be goin' home. Happy that nothin' unfortunate happened when we were back home."

"_That's_ makin' you fidget?" Gwen asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"For someone with a birthday tomorrow, you're awfully nosy," Arthur says, keeping his eyes trained pointedly at the road.

"Oh, someone's plannin' something'," Gwen grins, leaning her head back on Arthurs's shoulder again. "Havin' second thoughts about your little surprise?" she teases.

"No. And stop that; I ain't tellin', no matter how much you kiss on my neck."

Gwen giggles and moves her lips to his cheek now. "I could get you to tell and you know it," she whispers, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She moves over and sits on her own side. "But I won't. I won't ruin your surprise," she says, lacing her fingers together primly over her stomach.

"Thank you," Arthur says. "And I didn't say you had to move way over there, you know." _Morgana better have that thing set up,_ he thinks, wishing there were some way he could call her and let her know they're almost home.

Arthur stares into the trunk of the car, now parked in the lot outside their apartment building. _How am I going to get all this upstairs in one trip?_ he puzzles. _I can't let her go in by herself or she'll see it._

"Arthur?" Gwen asks, wondering why he's standing and staring.

_I'll come back later, I guess._ "Sorry, just tryin' to see if I can get all this in one trip," he says.

"You brought home a case o' barbecue sauce, Baby, I don't think you can get that and our suitcase and other things all at once. And you won't let me carry anything big, so…"

"I know. I'm just feelin' lazy." He reaches in and takes the one large suitcase they shared and the garment bag holding their clothes for the wedding. Gwen takes the blanket from Miss Thea and the books from Merlin. Arthur manages the box with the birdhouse in it as well, then closes the trunk, leaving the cradle, a bag of baby clothes (that Hunith picked out and Uther paid for), and the barbecue sauce for later. "Probably two more trips," he mutters. _Unless I can put the barbecue sauce in the cradle…_

Gwen, whose hands are not full, starts to unlock their door, and Arthur stops her before she opens the door.

"Wait," he says. "Close your eyes." He sets the things down in the corridor outside their door.

"Arthur…"  
"Just trust me," he says, leaning over to kiss her.

"Okay," she says, closing her eyes. Arthur opens the door and leads her inside, gently taking the blanket out of her arms and setting it on a table. He quickly grabs the suitcase and other things and brings them inside as well. He steers Gwen through the room, grinning when he sees it exactly where he told Morgana to put it, by the window in the corner.

"Open," he whispers in her ear.

Gwen opens her eyes to see a top-of-the-line Singer sewing machine on a new sewing bench with a big red bow on the top.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, smiling broadly, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Do you like it?"

She turns and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly, kissing his cheek several times. "Yes, I love it. I've always wanted one, thank you!"

Just as suddenly, she is gone, inspecting the machine, making little appreciative noises, touching it, sitting in the chair behind it.

"Watchin' you make that dress and all those baby clothes gave me the idea. Sewin' by hand just looked so laborious," Arthur says.

"I'll be able to make so many more things with this," Gwen says, grinning up at him.

Arthur doesn't remind her that she doesn't _need_ to make baby clothes. He would gladly take her shopping and let her buy anything she wants for their baby. But he knows that this is something she genuinely enjoys doing. _I did tell Toya's Gran that making Guinevere happy is my favorite thing to do._

"The man at the store said that we could arrange to have someone show you how to use that if you want," Arthur says.

Gwen looks up. "I don't think that will be necessary," she says with a grin, perusing the instruction manual. "If I wasn't so tired I'd be firin' this up right now."

"I'm goin' to go get the rest of the stuff," Arthur says.

"Okay," Gwen says, engrossed in the manual.

When Arthur returns, he half-expects to see Gwen sewing something already. Instead he finds her in the bedroom, unpacking the suitcase.

"Get everything?" she asks, peeking out the bedroom door to see him taking the box of sauce out of the cradle and putting it on the kitchen table. She snorts a laugh.

"What?"

"One day we'll have to tell your first-born that the first thing cradled in there was a box o' barbecue sauce," Gwen calls, laughing.

"Sorry," Arthur apologizes, joining her in the bedroom to help.

"As long as none of it spilled, I don't care. It was probably the smartest thing to do if you wanted to get everything. It just struck me funny."

"I'm surprised you didn't have that machine runnin' already," Arthur says.

"I told you, I'm tired. I will be playin' with it tomorrow, that's for sure," she says. "But first, I need to thank you for my present. Properly," she walks slowly towards him, a half smile lighting her face.

"Properly?" he asks, reaching out for her as soon as she is close enough.

She nods, winding her arms around his neck again, one hand threading through his hair as he pulls her closer.

She lifts up on tiptoe, pressing her lips to his, softly at first, almost teasing. Arthur's hands slide on her back, gripping her shirt in his fists when she slides her tongue forward, deepening the kiss.

He lets her kiss him for a bit longer, enjoying her control. Gwen pulls softly away, gazing up at him. "Thank you," she says again.

"You're welcome, my love," he says, kissing her forehead. Then he pouts slightly. "That's all I get?"

Gwen laughs at him. "For now. To be continued," she promises, kissing him once more, running her hands down his chest. She tries to move away to finish her unpacking.

"Oh, no you don't," Arthur tightens his grip on her, not letting her go. "We are finishing what you started, Mrs. Pendragon," he says. He stoops slightly and picks her up, carrying her to the bed.


	34. Chapter 34

They move August 22. The house was ready that Wednesday, but they officially moved in on Saturday. Gwen wanted to start bringing things over little by little, but Arthur put his foot down.

"Guinevere, that's why we're hirin' movers. Plus, you're about ready to pop. You've been complainin' for weeks that your hips hurt all the time. And what if somethin' happens while you're bein' stubborn and carryin' things?"

"Then I'll go to the hospital and have them call you," she answers mildly, just as stubborn as he is.

"Please. Wait until Saturday. It's only a few days," he says, taking her hands in his. His expression is so filled with concern and love that she bends.

"All right," she says softly. "I'll behave myself."

Arthur visibly relaxes.

"I hate this, though."

"Noted," he answers.

So on Saturday, Gwen's job was to sit in a chair in the foyer and tell people where to put things. She was good at it, too. The movers were eating out of her hands within an hour, pausing for her instructions each time they came through, no matter how heavy the item they were carrying was.

The fact that Gwen and Alice made a bunch of fried chicken the day before to feed everyone on Saturday was certainly helpful in winning over the movers' loyalty as well.

By the end of the day, not only was everything in, most things were in place and a good portion of the boxes have been unpacked. Gwen spent most of her time in the nursery, making sure everything was perfect.

The walls are painted a soft yellow, with yellow and orange bedding. An upholstered rocking chair sits in one corner with a small lamp beside on a low dresser that doubles as a changing table. A cheerful Noah's Ark-themed mobile hangs over the crib, the little pairs of animals swaying gently. The blue blanket from Thea is draped over the rail of the crib, a bright contrast to the yellows and oranges dominating the rest of the room. The cradle from Elyan is on the floor beside the crib, Toya's blanket folded neatly inside. Waiting.

"Everything's ready for you, little one," Gwen says softly, rubbing her hand over her stomach.

"Guinevere, are you hungry? What are you doing?" Arthur asks, walking quietly into the room to see Gwen staring down at the cradle.

"Hmm? I'm just trying to decide if I should put this in our room instead," she says, nudging the cradle with her toe, making it rock on its curved rails. "You know, so I can keep him close."

Arthur smiles a small smile. "Will _you_ sleep if he is right there?" Arthur asks. They unconsciously started referring to the baby as _he_ after Miss Thea gave them the blue blanket.

"I don't know. I guess I can find out," she sighs. Arthur pulls her into his arms, her round belly pressing into him.

"Whatever you want, darlin'. Your rest is just as important as Baby's will be, you know. If you're exhausted, then…"

"Yes, I know, Dr. Brockton told me the same thing. I need to remember to take care o' myself as well as the baby," she says, leaning up to kiss him. "Now what was that you were sayin' about food?"

"Are you hungry? It's nearly seven."

"That late already? I am hungry."

"Let's go get some supper, then."

"I really had hoped to cook somethin' the first night in our new home, but… tomorrow," she decides. "It's too late and I'm too lazy right now."

"That's why I was thinkin' we'd just go down to the George Webb's and get a burger," Arthur suggests, descending the stairs, Gwen holding his arm.

"Sounds good. I think I want breakfast, though."

"If you want breakfast for dinner, then breakfast for dinner you shall have, my lady," Arthur declares. "And then we can come home and break in that new king-sized bed, if you're up for it." He grins at her. He's been mildly distracted by it ever since it was delivered and set up this afternoon, pulling Alice in to "help" him make the bed. Really it was Alice making the bed while Arthur was only successful in putting the pillowcases on the pillows.

"I'll take it under advisement," she teases, climbing into the car, parked inside their attached three-car garage.

xXx

By the following Wednesday, Arthur is so anxious that he's about ready to go in after the baby. Gwen is ready to smack him, but she knows he's just excited. The weather is hot and sticky, and she has been mostly staying inside, thanking the Lord every day that they had central air conditioning installed when the house was built.

Every day Arthur wakes up and looks expectantly at Gwen, wondering _Is today the day?_ Every day he comes home from work to find that Gwen is still as he left her that morning, just more tired.

Shortly before noon on Friday, Gaius is ready to send Arthur home because he's completely useless and getting on everyone's nerves.

Then the call comes.

"Pendragon Law, this is Elena, may I help you?"

"Elena, this is Gwen," Gwen says. Her voice sounds a little shaky.

"Gwen? Is everything all right?" Elena says, immediately on high alert.

"Would you tell Arthur to come home, please? I think I need to go to the hospital."

"Oh! Okay," Elena says quickly. "Hold tight; he'll be there soon."

"Thank you," Gwen says and hangs up.

The office is a fifteen-minute drive from home. Arthur makes it home in eight minutes, peeling noisily into the driveway. He leaves the car running, jogs inside to find Gwen waiting for him with a small bag, and escorts her back out to the car.

"Did you call the hospital?" he asks inside the car, speeding back out again.

"Yes," she says.

"How… how do you know it's time?"

"My water broke. I was talkin' to Alice when it happened."

"So she knows. That's good. Did it… did it make a mess?"

"Did what make a mess?" Gwen squirms a little and rubs her hand over her belly.

"Your water breaking," Arthur says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently while they are forced to wait at a red light.

"It wasn't a massive gush o' water, Baby. I wasn't standin' in a puddle or anything," she says patiently.

"You're… you're really calm…" he says.

She holds up her hand to show him that it's trembling slightly. "I'm holdin' it together, for now."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really. I imagine it will soon. Mostly it just feels like he's movin' around a lot. Dr. Brockton said I would know if I was havin' a contraction. I don't think he was right. I might have just had one, though, back at that stoplight."

Arthur pulls into the hospital parking lot, pulling up under a canopy to drop her off.

"Just park the car, Baby. I don't want them to take me away without you there," she says, reaching for his hand. He immediately drives back out and into the closest spot he can find.

They walk in, Arthur gives them Gwen's name, and in moments Gwen is placed in a wheelchair and Arthur is following with her bag, feeling a bit like a bellhop. A nurse takes Gwen's bag from him and hands him a clipboard with some forms on it, telling him to sit and wait in the expectant fathers' waiting room and fill out the forms.

Arthur plops down in an uncomfortable chair and pouts, staring at the forms like they have just called him a nasty name.

"Well, since I have nothing else to do…" he mumbles, lifting his pen. "They probably just throw these away. Just give them to the fathers so they have something to do besides bother the nurses."

The time stretches. Arthur filled out his paperwork and gave it to the nurse at the desk. He calls Gaius to report that there is nothing to report, hearing Morgana yelling for details in the background all the while until Gaius finally just gives her the phone.

"Well? Well?"

"Nothin' yet. It's takin' _forever,_" he laments.

"Well, you better call when she's born. Even if it's two a.m."

Arthur smirks. Morgana has been stubbornly calling the baby "she" the entire time. "I will, I promise. I should call Auntie and let her know we still don't know anything."

"Okay. Call the second you can."

"I _will,_ jeez. Bye." Arthur hangs up and dials Alice.

"Arthur?" Alice answers the phone, on the first ring, as if she was waiting by the phone and knew it was him. "Is the baby here yet?"

"What would you have done if it wasn't me?" Arthur asks. "And no, not yet. I was just callin' because it's been three hours and I know y'all are anxious."

"Thank you. So, no news?"

"None. I'm about to lose my mind with boredom and anxiety over here. There's another guy here who's obviously on his second or third kid. He's been calmly playin' solitaire for two hours now. I'm about ready to toss his deck o' cards out the window."

"Arthur, honey, settle down. I'm sure Gwen is fine. If something was wrong, you would have been told. No news is good news."

"I guess."

"Have you called Elyan?"

"Oh, shit, no! Sorry," he apologizes to the nurse sitting nearby, who looks over the tops of her glasses at him.

"I'll call him for you," Alice says.

"Wait till after five; he's probably workin'. And Toya works, too, so best to wait. Go ahead and interrupt their supper if you have to."

"If anything happens before then, call me so I can relay the message," she says. "Do you know his number?"

"Um, yeah," Arthur says, and gives her the number. "Call Pop, too?"

"I'm sure Gaius has done so already, but I will make sure," Alice says.

"Thanks, Auntie. I owe you," Arthur says.

"You owe me nothing, Arthur. It's what we do for family, silly."

"Thanks. Someone needs the phone, so I gotta go."

"Goodbye, dear. Hang in there, Gwen will be fine," Alice reassures him.

At nearly 8:30, a nurse walks into the waiting area. "Mr. Pendragon?"

Arthur's head snaps up and he abandons the game of Gin Rummy he was playing with the previously-solitaire-playing man. "You win," he mutters, standing. "Yes?"

"Come with me, please," the nurse says. Arthur obediently follows.

"Is everything all right?" he asks quietly.

"Yes, everything is fine. There's just someone who wants to meet you," she says, smiling at him when his face splits into a broad grin.

She opens the door to Gwen's room and he hurries inside, rushing over to where his wife is sitting up in the bed, looking quite tired, a small blue bundle in her arms.

_Blue! Miss Thea was right!_

"Guinevere," he breathes her name, leaning over her and kissing her forehead, her cheek, and her lips.

"Miss Thea was right," Gwen says. "We have a baby boy, Arthur."

"I know," he whispers, staring down at the little sleeping face surrounded by the soft blanket, and Gwen realizes that he is crying. "He's got a little hat," he says dumbly.

Gwen laughs, tears pricking her own eyes now, touched by Arthur's unembarrassed display of emotion. "It's to keep his head warm," she answers. "You can hold him."

"What? Are you sure that's a good idea?" Arthur asks, eyes wide as saucers.

"Of course it is. I carried him around for nine months; it's only fair that you get a turn," she points out, handing the baby to him.

Arthur sits, taking the baby in his arms, adjusting them both until the tiny man stops squirming and settles in.

"He's so little," Arthur says softly, stroking his son's cheek. He looks down at him. He can't really make out too many of his features just yet, but he can see his dusky skin, a shade between Arthur and Gwen's, and a little fist that has broken free of the swaddle to press against his neck. Arthur lifts the small stocking hat to see wisps of dark curls in random disarray on the boy's head. "Hello, Thomas," he smiles, putting the hat back. He looks up at Gwen.

"They haven't come in yet for the paperwork. So officially he doesn't have a name yet, if you've changed your mind," Gwen says.

"I haven't. Have you?"

"No. Thomas Uther it is," Gwen says. "Did you call your father?"

"Alice called Pop and Elyan a bit after five," Arthur says. He reaches down and kisses Thomas on the cheek. "He's so soft."

"He's skinny as a rail; you should see his legs," Gwen giggles.

"I thought babies were chubby," Arthur says.

"After a month or so, usually. Newborns are mostly skinny with slightly pointy heads."

"What?" Arthur takes Thomas' hat completely off and looks. "Oh. That's… weird."

"Not really, if you think about it a minute," she says, shifting on the bed, wincing as she does so.

"Ah. Right. I suppose not," Arthur says, chuckling. "How are you?" he asks, suddenly remembering that he should ask about her as well.

"I'm good; just a little sore. And tired. It's normal."

Thomas starts to squirm a bit more than Arthur is comfortable with right now, so he stands and hands him back to Gwen. "I think he wants his mama," Arthur says.

"I think Daddy just doesn't know what to do yet," Gwen says, taking her son in her arms again. Arthur perches on the bed next to her, watching in amazement as his son settles down. _It's like he knows he's back with her._

"Yeah," he admits. He leans down and kisses her again, tilting her chin up with his finger so he can kiss her lips. "I love you so much," he says, kissing her once more.

"I love you, too, Baby."

"You look so beautiful with him in your arms."

"I look like hell, but thank you for thinking otherwise," Gwen smirks at him. Her hair is back in a braid, but several tendrils have broken free, and her eyes are heavy with fatigue.

They stare down at their son for a few moments, neither one of them believing he's actually here and he's actually theirs.

"Do you know what today is?" Arthur asks quietly.

"Apart from the obvious, I assume?" Gwen asks, indicating the baby.

"Well, yes."

"August 28…" Gwen says, then, "Oh!"

Arthur smiles. "The day we met, one year ago today. After Dr. King's speech."

"You knocked me on my backside and walked away with my heart," she says, smiling at him.

"Who would have thought one year later we'd be married and holdin' a newborn baby?" he asks, moving more onto the bed beside her. He shoves his shoes off and swings his feet up onto the bed, wrapping his arm around her.

She leans into him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Certainly not my brother," she says, laughing.

xXx

Several days later, Arthur brings Gwen and Thomas home, welcomed by Alice, Gaius, and Morgana. Alice has been cooking up a storm, stocking their fridge and freezer with casseroles that just need to be put in the oven, all labeled with instructions that "even Arthur can understand."

Alice coos over little Thomas as if he were her own grandson, scooping him up immediately, the only one completely at ease with handling a baby. She helps Gwen get him settled, fussing and folding all his laundry (that she washed while Gwen was in the hospital), hovering like a natural-born grandmother.

Morgana hovers in the background, not sure what to do. She can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, but she pushes it aside.

"Morgana, would you like to hold him?" Gwen asks. "He's wearing one of the rompers you bought, did you see?"

"I did," Morgana says, smiling now. Alice places Thomas in Morgana's arms, and she holds him a little awkwardly, having had very limited experience with babies.

"Try the rocker, dear," Alice recommends, and Morgana nods and sits.

Thomas settles in with a tiny squeak.

"Hi, buddy," Morgana says. "You look like your mommy."

"You think?" Gwen says. "We haven't really been able to tell much. He won't open his eyes long enough," she laughs.

"Newborns sleep most of the time," Alice says. "Or at least it seems that way. Eat, sleep, poop, repeat. That's your first month."

Gwen chuckles, then something occurs to her. "Can I ask…? How old was Morgana when you adopted her?"

"I'm adopted?" Morgana asks in mock horror, eyes wide.

"Hush," Alice says, waving her hand at her and laughing.

_Obviously this is a family joke,_ Gwen realizes, though she was momentarily thrown by Morgana's outburst.

"She was just a few days old," Alice says. "Her mother was very young. Sixteen, I think. The father was older, I guess, and washed his hands of her when he found out she was pregnant."

"How awful," Gwen says.

"Gaius and I were in the right place at the right time, and we were able to bring her home from the hospital after she was born."

"And I'm thankful every day for that," Morgana says quietly, her finger now wrapped in Thomas' tiny fist.

Gwen smiles a wistful smile. It's unusual for Morgana to be so sentimental. _I wonder if she is feeling maternal instincts kicking in. She is older than Arthur, after all._

Thomas squirms in Morgana's arms, grunts, and his face turns bright red.

"Gwen, um, something's happening…"

Gwen comes over and looks, and she and Alice both start laughing.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"He's poopin'. Here," Gwen says. Thomas relaxes and Gwen lifts him out of Morgana's arms and takes him to the changing table.

Alice hovers again, making sure that Gwen knows what she's doing. _I'm sure the nurses showed her how, but…_

"What's goin' on in here?" Arthur asks, striding in, followed by Gaius. "Whoa!" he exclaims, wrinkling his nose.

"Your son just pooped in my arms," Morgana declares, somewhat unhappy about the event.

Arthur just laughs, finding the whole thing terribly amusing.

"Shut up," she says. "I'm sure you'll get pooped on, and worse."

"He already peed on me," Arthur says, leaning over Gwen's shoulder to smile down at his baby boy.

Gwen finishes him up and Arthur picks him up from the table. "Come here, you." He cuddles Thomas briefly before Gaius swoops in and takes him. "Hey!"

"I haven't had a turn," Gaius declares, swaying gently with the tiny boy in his arms. "Oh, and it looks like my turn is going to be short. Gwen, he looks like he's—"

Gaius' words are cut off by a shrill cry as Thomas proclaims his hunger.

"—hungry."

Gwen takes him from Gaius and goes to the rocker. Morgana stands so Gwen can sit; Gaius mumbles something and leaves the room so Gwen can nurse her son.

xXx

Two years later and to Morgana's delight, they welcome a baby daughter to the family. They name her Grainne Vanora, after Arthur's mother Ygraine and Gwen's mother Vanora.

The nurse was very confused by the name Grainne.

"G-R-A-I-N-N-E," Gwen spells.

"How do you say that?" the nurse asks.

"GRAH-nya. It's Irish."

The nurse looks at her, a bit puzzled. "I'm not Irish, of course." She sighs. "My husband's mother was named Ygraine, but we thought it was too old-fashioned. My husband's best friend is from Ireland, and he suggested Grainne as a variation. I do realize she's going to have to explain how to spell and say it for the rest of her life, yes."

"Well, it's your child to call what you will," the nurse says. "Grainne. It is kind of pretty, once you get used to it," she allows.

"Yes, I went through the same process," Gwen admits.

Grainne has Gwen's curls, but they are lighter, and she turns out resembling Arthur more, even somehow getting his blue eyes. While Thomas favors his mother, with her unique, exotic eyes and broader nose, Grainne has Arthur's straight, narrow nose and crooked smile, but her mother's full lips.

Six years after Grainne is born, little Elliot Merlin surprises them all. He has the darkest hair of the three, but strangely, also the straightest, and he has Arthur's eyes but in brown with Gwen's smile on Arthur's lips.

Thomas and Grainne have a brother-sister meeting after Arthur and Gwen bring Elliot home. They inform their parents that they can "just take that baby back to the hospital where you got him."

In time, they reluctantly grow to love their little brother with the sweet temperament and an imagination that often has them all shaking their heads.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: I know you all want me to go on forever with this story, and while it technically is possible, I just can't. This chapter is a timeline of some significant events (not all, obviously) through history and how Arthur and Gwen react to them, leading up to the present-day epilogue.**

**Civil Rights Act of 1964, July 2 (small jump backwards)**

Arthur is sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, poring over the front-page news about the Civil Rights bill passing. Gwen is seated with him, eating her breakfast. Obviously this is a big deal for him in many ways, as it affects both his career and his personal life.

"This is gonna mean so much for the baby's future," Arthur says, blindly groping around the paper, reaching for his coffee. Gwen pushes the mug towards his hand. "Says here that the bill outlaws major forms of discrimination against racial, ethnic, national and religious minorities, and women. It ends unequal application of voter registration requirements and racial segregation in schools, at the workplace and by facilities that serve the general public."

"Well, I feel a little better," Gwen says, poking at her oatmeal.

"Only a little?" Arthur says, looking over his newspaper. _Usually she's the optimistic one._

"This is a huge step forward, but unfortunately, changin' the law ain't gonna change people's minds. That's still up to us," Gwen says softly. "We have to keep doin' what we're doin', helpin' people to realize that no one is better than anyone else. And that's still quite a road."

Arthur sighs. "You're right. I sometimes forget that you're so much better at reading peoples' hearts and minds than I am. But let's focus on the postive, hmm? It's there in black and white now. If you'll pardon the pun." He smiles at her.

"Yes, Baby, it is. No more 'whites only' and 'coloreds only.' No more o' that 'separate but equal' nonsense. We all know it was separate, but never equal." She sighs, but then smiles. "I do feel better knowin' that our baby will be born into a world where he can have the same opportunities as any other person. That does make me happy."

"Me too, darlin', me too."

xXx

_**Star Trek**_** premieres, September 1966**

"Another Science Fiction show, Guinevere?" Arthur says, walking into the family room to see Gwen seated on the couch, engrossed in the television.

"It's not just Science Fiction, Arthur, look." She points at the crew on the screen. "Sure, they got a white man as captain, but there's a Japanese man and a colored woman there with him. And even a Russian, for Pete's sake! And an alien as well. Well, half-alien."

"What?"

"The guy with the pointy ears. He's half-Vulcan, half-human."

"Vulcan?"

"Made-up planet for the show," she explains.

"Oh," Arthur says, trying to sound interested.

Gwen sighs. "The point is, Baby, that it's all these different people workin' together for a common good. The fact that they're all different doesn't even enter into it, really. It's very progressive, and I'll bet most o' the people watchin' it don't even realize it."

Arthur nods, realizing she does have a point. "Do you think it's intentional?"

"I'd bet money on it, Baby."

"Nice. Oh, and hey, look – we could actually have matching Halloween costumes this year! We can go as whoever they are," he says, waving his hand at the screen excitedly.

"I suppose you want to be the captain," Gwen smirks.

"Of course. And you can be the alien with the pointy ears," he teases.

She shoves his shoulder, pushing him away. He responds by pouncing on her, tickling her and kissing her neck until she squeals. "Arthur! I'm tryin' to watch this!"

"Yeah, and I'm tryin' to do somethin' else," he mutters, kissing her. He's got her pinned under him on the sofa now.

"You're goin' to wake the babies," she protests, shoving him ineffectively.

"I'm not the one makin' noise. 'Sides, they're all the way upstairs. Not to mention that those children could sleep through an earthquake," Arthur says, still kissing while his hands have gone from tickling to groping. "You'd look really good in that short dress," he says, glancing at the screen at Lieutenant Uhura and her long, brown legs.

"Someone's got a crush," Gwen teases, turning Arthur's face back to hers.

"You're prettier than she is," he promises, kissing her once more. "Okay. I'll watch with you. But when the episode is over, we're picking right back up where we left off."

xXx

**Interracial marriage legal in all states, June 12, 1967**

Gwen has just put Thomas and Grainne down for their naps after lunch when the phone rings. She rushes to get it, a little annoyed because she has yet to get back to the laundry that got abandoned when Thomas somehow got ketchup in his hair.

"Hello?"

"Guinevere, it just came down. They ruled it unconstitutional!"

"Arthur? What are you… oh!" she exclaims, remembering the topic that Arthur has been following closely, the Loving v. Virginia case, for some time.

"Yes! Gaius just got a call from his contact in D.C. It hasn't even been released to the press yet! The United States Supreme Court unanimously ruled that anti-miscegenation laws are unconstitutional. So next time we go to Memphis, we won't have to hide!"

Gwen smiles, knowing that Arthur's been wanting to go back to see his father and everyone. _And so have I._ They haven't been down since Elyan's wedding. Uther has been up several times to see his grandchildren, always bringing too many gifts, and they went to New York for Merlin and Freya's wedding a couple years ago, but they haven't been back to Tennessee at all. They haven't even brought it up, both a little wary of the topic.

"I'd love to go down again," Gwen says. "Especially now that Elyan and Toya are finally expectin'. It'll be nice to be able to go down and see our new niece or nephew."

"Yeah," Arthur says. "And there's Merlin and Freya, too."

Gwen sighs. "Yes, we don't know how much longer we'll get to see her, so we should definitely go down." Freya was diagnosed with cervical cancer three months ago, and she hasn't been given a good prognosis. They'd been trying to have a baby, and after a year with no success, both saw doctors. Merlin was fine, but Freya was hit with the bombshell.

"Yeah," Arthur says again. "I wish there was somethin' we could do for her."

"I do, too. But hey: we'll be able to visit her free and clear of any trouble now. So let's focus on the positive, right?"

"Right. No more stupid laws about not bein' able to marry someone because their skin is a different color. Peel the skin off, we're all pink on the inside anway."

"Arthur, that's kind of gross," Gwen says, wrinkling her nose.

xXx

**Martin Luther King, Jr. goes to speak in Memphis, March 29, 1964**

"Merlin?" Arthur says into the phone when his friend answers.

"Hey, man, what's wrong?" Merlin asks.

"We can't come."

"What? Why? What happened? You're going to miss Dr. King!" Merlin exclaims.

"The kids got the chicken pox," Arthur says.

"Both of them?"

"Yep. Thomas brought it home from the library, we reckon, and passed it right on to Grainne. Guinevere ain't happy at all."

"Aw, man… I was looking forward to seeing you again. Well, the kids, mostly. They cheer me up more than anyone, you know that. We had such a good time last summer, and they probably look completely different now…"

"I'm sorry, man, really. I'm not happy 'bout it, either, but we can't travel with them covered in spots and calamine lotion, scratchin' like a couple o' hound dogs," Arthur says. "We'll come as soon as they're better, I promise. Memorial Day weekend."

"Writing it down," Merlin says, implying that it is now set in stone.

"Right. We'll be watchin' everything on the TV, I guarantee it," Arthur says.

"You'd better. I've got presents for them," Merlin says.

"O' course you do," Arthur sighs. "And Merlin?"

"What?"

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, man. Gwen wants me to ask if you're remembering to eat."

"…most of the time," Merlin eventually admits. Since Freya died four months ago, Merlin has been having his most prolific period of songwriting, but at the expense of his own health.

"Not good enough. Eat. Sleep. Shower. Basic things, Merl. Don't forget or we're callin' your mama. Again."

"All right, all right!" Merlin surrenders. "See you in May, Cabbage Head."

**April 4, 1968**

Arthur and Gwen's phone rings late. "It's after eleven," Arthur grumbles, rolling over to reach for the phone. "Hello?"

"Arthur…"

"Pop? What's wrong?"

"Dr. King… he's been shot," Uther says. He sounds quite shaken by the news.

"What?" Arthur sits bolt upright in bed now, wide awake.

"I just got a call from Chief Quigley. He just got back from the Lorraine. Some bastard shot Dr. King this evening when he was standing on the balcony of his hotel room."

"Oh, God…"

"What is it, Arthur?" Gwen asks sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"Is he…?" Arthur asks.

"Yes. He's dead. I'm sorry, Arthur. I know he was an important influence for your work. And life. I… I guess that's why I wanted to call you myself and tell you, so you don't have to read it in the papers tomorrow."

"Arthur?" Gwen asks, sitting up as well, worry crossing her face.

"I hear Gwen," Uther says. "I'll let you go so you can tell her. I know she's going to take it pretty hard."

"Yeah. Thanks, Pop," Arthur croaks. He hangs up the phone and pulls Gwen into his arms, holding her tightly.

"Baby, you're scarin' me…" Gwen says, reaching up to wipe a tear from his face.

"I… don't know how to tell you this, but… Dr. King… he…"

"No…" Gwen says, her hands flying to her mouth, suddenly grateful for the children's chicken pox. _They shouldn't be exposed to this kind of ugliness this young._ "No."

Arthur nods. "Shot, doin' nothin' more than standin' on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel," he whispers, holding the now-sobbing Gwen.

They sit together in the bed, just holding each other, letting the news slowly sink in as the shock begins to ebb.

"I don't understand," she eventually whispers into his neck. "Who would… who would do such a thing?"

"An ignorant bigot," Arthur mutters darkly.

"I just don't understand," Gwen repeats, her voice breaking. "Why? All he did was preach love and equality. Never… never had an unkind thing to say against any man… why?"

"I don't know, darlin', I don't know." He kisses her hair, her forehead. "Merlin was at his speech yesterday. Said there was a bomb threat made on his plane into Memphis."

"I know," she whispers. "I talked to him, too." She sniffles. "He said that… Dr. King even mentioned it in his speech."

"Yeah," Arthur says. They fall silent again, listening to the wind outside, the silence of the house. All they can do is hold one another while their grief washes over them, remembering the "I Have a Dream" speech five years earlier, the reason they met. The large poster on Arthur's office wall. Everything Dr. King believed in, they fought for.

"Never got to meet him, but if it weren't for him…" Gwen says.

"We might not have ever met," Arthur finishes.

Gwen leans up and kisses his cheek. "And now he's gone," she says, finishing both their thoughts.

"But his words and his dream, they'll live on. Because of people like us," Arthur says, stroking her back softly. "People like us and Merlin and Gwaine and Morgana and Elyan and Toya. My father and uncle, too. Isaac Helios. Tristan and Isolde. Miss Thea. Duncan and Ezra and their families. Percy and Vivian. Heh, never thought I'd mention Vivian's name in this context," he chuckles a moment. "So many more people I can't even begin to name. And if just the two of us know so many people that believe in that dream, you know there have to be thousands, maybe millions more out there that do, too."

"I sure hope so," Gwen says, pulling away to reach for a tissue so she can wipe her eyes.

"I know so," Arthur says, pulling her back into his arms and down under the covers of their bed.

Gwen sighs against him. "Yes. I do, too," she finally says. "I still don't understand…"

"I know, darlin'."

After a long while, they fall into an exhausted sleep, clinging to one another the entire night.

xXx

**Apollo 11 moon landing, July 20, 1969**

"A man can walk on the moon, but folks still can't get along," Arthur sighs, watching Neil Armstrong bouncing in slow motion across the TV screen.

"Things are getting better. That's why we don't give up. That is why we hope," Gwen says, head ducked over her sewing machine, making a quilt for Elyan and Toya's next baby, due in three months.

"I know. We seem to have this conversation a lot, don't we?" Arthur asks, smiling a sad smile.

"Well, we gotta keep remindin' ourselves, don't we? Can't get complacent." She holds up a section of the quilt and he nods approvingly. She smirks at him, knowing full well he really doesn't have an opinion. "Besides, science ain't sociology."

"What?"

"Science ain't sociology. Science – what allowed us to walk on the moon – is all facts and figures. Black and white, no gray areas. Facts are facts. An… an atom don't have free will," she says, waving her hand in the air. "People ain't science. You can predict the weather more accurately than you can a person's behavior."

"Good point," Arthur says. "Science is easier, who would have thought?" He chuckles. "I hated science class."

xXx

_**Roots**_** miniseries airs on ABC, January 23, 1977**

"What is this?" Thomas asks, having been summoned to the family room.

"_Roots,_" Gwen answers. "We're gonna watch it, and so are you."

"I am?" he asks, perching uneasily on the couch next to Gwen. "I'm not sure I want to."

"I'm not sure I heard myself givin' you a choice," Gwen answers. Arthur snorts.

"What about Grainne? Shouldn't she watch, too?"

"I think she's just a little too young yet," Arthur says. "She's in her room, reading her book for her book report."

"She's not in her room, and she's not reading," Thomas says. "She's in your room, on the phone, I think."

Arthur groans and stands up. He strides over to the phone and picks it up.

"Dad!" Grainne's voice can be heard both through the receiver and drifting down from the upstairs.

"Off the phone, kiddo. You're supposed to be reading. Say goodbye to Marie," Arthur says. "She probably has a book report, too." He waits a moment longer and then hangs up.

"You could have gone upstairs instead of embarrassin' her like that," Gwen says.

"I could have, yes, but that way was more fun. Embarrassin' your kids is part of bein' a parent," Arthur says, sitting back in his recliner.

"So what's this about?" Thomas asks.

"It's a miniseries based on Alex Haley's book. So your choice is: watch this or read the book. I do have it, you know," Gwen says.

"I'll watch," Thomas answers, leaning back and getting comfortable.

"Thought so," Gwen smiles. "It's the story of a young African man who is captured and brought to America as a slave. How he survives, his life. Part of your heritage, I'm afraid."

"I know," Thomas reluctantly acquiesces.

They watch all eight episodes together. Gwen cries through much of it. Arthur watches, fascinated and horrified at times. Thomas gradually becomes absorbed in the story, and is actually disappointed when it ends.

Years later, when the practice of jumping the broom comes into fashion with African-Americans as a way of honoring their heritage, Thomas remembers seeing this in _Roots_ and decides that one day, when he gets married, he and his bride will jump the broom as well.

xXx

**Spring 1982, Thomas applying to college**

"Dad!" Thomas yells, looking up from the form on the kitchen table. He's been sitting there for several minutes, scowling over his application form. "_Dad!_"

"Thomas, what on earth are you yellin' about?" Gwen asks. "Your father just went out to the garage."

On cue, the lawn mower starts up. Thomas rolls his eyes. "The man is obsessed."

"I know, Baby. Can I help you?" She sits beside him at the table.

He slides the form over and points to a section. "Why the hell do they need to know that?"

"Watch your language," she chastises, but then looks at the form. She sees one word followed by a series of check boxes. _Race: [ ] White [ ] Black [ ] Hispanic [ ] Asian [ ] Other_

"I'm two of these. Do I check both of them?"

Gwen sighs. "Just go with 'other,' I guess. Lord, I don't know why it even matters."

"Affirmative Action," Arthur pipes up, appearing out of nowhere. Neither of them had noticed that the noise of the mower had stopped. "They gotta make sure they're fillin' their quota of non-whites."

"Dad…" Thomas says, leaning back in his chair to look sideways at his father.

"I'm serious, Son. Affirmative Action was sort of a good idea, at first, but now it's become all about numbers."

"So if I get accepted it _might_ only be so they can fill a numerical requirement, not because of my merits?" Thomas asks.

"Possibly," Arthur frowns.

"Screw that. I worked my butt off in school. I'm leaving it blank," he says decisively.

Gwen looks up at Arthur, unsure. Arthur nods once, indicating he agrees with Thomas' decision. He's a little more at ease with thinking of his first born as nearly an adult than Gwen is. Thomas is still her little boy, even though he passed her up in height by the time he was 13.

Later, when Gwen questions Arthur about it, he tells her that he thought it was the right thing. "We've got to let him fight a few battles. He might lose, but that's going to happen. We can't protect him from everything, you know that."

"I know. Hopefully if they have a problem with him having left it blank we'll get a call or a letter or somethin'. Then he can at least explain and make his argument."

"And he'll win, too," Arthur says definitively, still preening over Thomas' decision to go into law.

xXx

**The end of Apartheid in South Africa, April 1994**

"Wow, we were lucky," Gwen says, reading the morning paper. Despite shootings and car bombs, the election was held, and South Africa has a new president, Nelson Mandela. His election signals the end of the near-50-year reign of the National Party and its policy of Apartheid, where the white minority had all the rights and privileges.

"How so?"

"When the Civil Rights Amendment passed, there were no shootings, no massacres," she says, handing Arthur the paper as he sits down. "This is brutal. I mean, it seems to be ending well, but at what cost?"

"I think the situation there was actually worse than it was here," Arthur says. "It's a shame that it took them 30 more years to start turning things around."

"It honestly amazes me that the government there was able to get away with it for so long," Gwen says. "What with the white people bein' the minority and all."

"I know, it boggles the mind. But if you don't have the money, then you don't have the power. And the government made sure that the money went where _they_ wanted it to go, and threw their opponents into prison." He drops the paper and looks at her across the table. "It's a fucked-up system, there's no doubt about that."

"Arthur!" Gwen exclaims, standing to get some coffee for Arthur.

"I know, I know. But you know I only use that word if I really mean it," he grins at her.

"Can't say I disagree with your assessment," she admits. "I'm happy for them, though. It's 30 years overdue, like you said, but at least they got there."

Gwen comes back to the table and sets Arthur's coffee down in front of him and he grabs her, pulling her down into his lap.

"Oh!" she exclaims, laughing in surprise.

"I hope the new laws and the new government will allow the people there to be as happy as we've been," he says, wrapping his arms around her. "O' course, we had to skirt some laws of our own…"

"Yeah, and it was worth it," she says, rubbing her nose against his.

"Well, I'm glad that you still think so after all this time," he says, tilting his chin and kissing her softly.

Gwen starts to pull away, but Arthur holds fast, sliding his hand up her back to cup her head as he deepens the kiss. She squeaks in surprise as his tongue slips between her lips, but her fingers are sliding into his hair, her other hand grasping his tie as she kisses him back.

"Dad, you ready? Ah! Whoa!" Thomas strides into the kitchen, his car keys dangling from his hand, where he encounters his 50-something parents making out at the kitchen table.

"You could knock, you know," Arthur says, still holding a blushing Gwen in his lap.

"You could, oh, not make out with my mom in the kitchen. _Again,_" Thomas counters.

"Shut it. Be happy we're still this much in love. Besides, _you_ wouldn't even be here if…"

"Stop! Don't want to hear it! Now come _on,_ we're gonna be late," Thomas says.

"It's my practice, Son, I can be late," Arthur says, defiantly kissing his wife one more time before releasing her. "You, on the other hand…"

"You'd think that being the boss's son would merit something," Thomas groans. "See you later, Mom." He leans down and kisses her cheek. "Let's go, Perv," he says to Arthur, starting to walk back towards the door.

"To be continued, my love," Arthur says softly, kissing Gwen goodbye now.

"Mmm, looking forward to it," she smiles, watching him walk after their son. _They walk exactly alike,_ she notes for the thousandth time.

"Do I even want to know?" she hears Thomas ask Arthur as they walk out.

"We were talkin' about the end of Apartheid, and it just got us rememberin' the old days…" Arthur's voice drifts and is cut off by the front door closing.

_Everyone should be able to experience this kind of happiness,_ Gwen thinks, standing in the kitchen. _Not just us, not just the people of South Africa. Everyone._

xXx

**September 11, 2001**

Arthur is retired. Technically. Now 63, he retired three years earlier, but he still keeps a few fingers in and an ear attuned to Pendragon Law, now run by Thomas and Morgana and Alvarr's son Mordred. Of course now it is called Pendragon & Dunwoody, renamed after Gaius retired and left the firm equally to Arthur and Morgana, whose married name is Dunwoody. Morgana and Alvarr both fully retired at the same time as Arthur and have moved to Florida, where they live in a retirement community.

So on this pleasant fall Tuesday morning, Arthur sits in his office, idly perusing the paper, CNN on the wall-mounted television across from his desk.

Then all hell breaks loose.

"Guinevere!" Arthur yells, eyes glued to the screen as it plays footage of the first airplane flying into the north tower of the World Trade Center, then of the second plane hitting the south tower. It plays again and again, a horrifying loop.

"Yes?" Gwen asks, hurrying in, something in his tone alarming her.

"You watchin' TV out there?"

"No, I… oh, my God, what happened?" she asks, following his gaze to the screen, watching the thick black smoke billowing from the building.

"First it was one plane, and everyone thought it was a horrible accident," Arthur says quietly. "Then another one hit."

"That's no accident," Gwen says, sinking down to the small leather sofa.

Arthur's phone rings, his own separate office line. He knows who it is without checking the caller ID. "Grainne," he croaks.

"So you've heard?" she asks. She's near tears.

"Watching on CNN. Your mother's in here, too."

"Everyone's watching here. It's hard, we're trying to find out what's going on while keeping the children away from the television screens," she says.

"That can't be easy," Arthur says. Grainne works at Children's Hospital as a psychologist. _She's going to be busy,_ Arthur realizes grimly.

"This is so surreal," she whispers.

"I have seen a lot of things in my life, but…"

"I know," Gwen agrees. She reaches out, and Arthur hands her the phone. "Hey."

"Hi, Mama," Grainne says, and now she does start crying.

"I know, Baby, it doesn't make any sense, does it?" Gwen says.

"No. How am I going to explain this? You know these children are going to see this and want to know why."

"You'll find a way. You always do."

Grainne sniffs. "I know. But I've never had to deal with something of this magnitude before."

"None of us have, and we should be thanking the Lord for that," Gwen says. "But you'll know what to say. You have a way of explainin' things to children. You can help them understand that sometimes people think their way is the right way and everyone who thinks different is wrong. You know how to take the negative and turn it into a learning experience."

"Thanks, Mom," she says, taking a deep breath. "I gotta go. I'll call you tonight."

"All right. The call waitin' is goin' off now, anyway. Probably your brother."

"'Bye, Mom, I love you."

"Love you, too, Baby." Gwen clicks the phone over. "Hello?"

"Mom, are you and Dad watching?" Thomas' voice comes through the phone.

While they talk to Thomas, the report comes in about a third plane crashing into the Pentagon. Immediately after they hang up with Thomas, Elliot calls to check in, and the report of the flight crashing into the field comes through.

"That's strange," Arthur says. "Why a field in Pennsylvania?"

"Bet they were heading somewhere else and something happened," Elliot says. "I wonder if the passengers… you know, _did_ something."

"Maybe," Arthur allows.

Later it would come out that Elliot was correct, that the passengers fought back, causing the hijackers to crash the plane in a field instead of the intended target.

Gwen and Arthur eventually moved from his office to the family room, watching on the big TV, flipping from channel to channel. It was on every channel, even channels that normally don't broadcast news events.

Overwhelmed, Gwen had to stop watching. She retreated to her kitchen, deciding to bake cookies just to keep herself occupied with something. She thinks about her grandchildren, two of them just toddlers, one newborn. She is grateful that they are too young to fathom what has happened this morning, but she knows one day they will learn about this horrible event. She hopes that when that day comes things will be better.

"Always hopin' that things will be better, it seems," she mutters to herself. Then she realizes that things _are_ better. "But we still have to keep trying. Can't get complacent."

Arthur is glued to the television all day until Gwen finally pulls him away to come to dinner. He looks exhausted, almost haunted. Over dinner, he looks at Gwen. "I can't help but wonder what Dr. King would say about all this."

"I wondered the same thing," Gwen tells him. "And I decided that I am not smart enough to come up with an answer to that question," she sighs.

"Me neither," Arthur decides. "Maybe later we can make some sense of this."

"Probably not," Gwen says. "Some things just… defy explanation. I think this is one of them."

"Not exactly the dream he envisioned, is it? I mean, it's goin' to invite a whole new dimension of racism, I bet."

"Oh, you're probably right," Gwen says sadly. "So unfair."

"Well, we can hope that it doesn't come to that, but I'm not very optimistic," Arthur sighs.

"On the other hand, this might bring people together," Gwen says. "People are gonna be kinder to other people. Everyone's goin' to be grievin', but we'll be grievin' together. As a country. We're not individual people right now, black and white and brown and so on. We're all Americans right now."

"I'd wager some of both'll be happenin'," Arthur says.

Gwen nods. "This is just horrible, but it's gonna make us stronger as a country. Once the shock and panic abates, the country's gonna rally."

Arthur stares at her. "You been doin' a lot of thinkin' while you were makin' all these cookies," he says, looking around the kitchen at several dozen cookies all around him. _She'll probably put these in the cookie sale at church,_ he idly thinks.

"I was."

"And for the record, I hope you're right. No. I know you're gonna be right," he decides.


	36. Epilogue

Epilogue

**Who's who:**

Thomas Uther, 49, wife Sarah: Sons Arthur, 16, and Ryan, 12.

Grainne Vanora, 47, husband Tim: Daughters Jennifer, 15, and Rachel, 9.

Elliot Merlin, 41, wife Claudia: Son Mateo, 8.

xXx

June 22, 2013. Guinevere's 75th birthday.

"Hello, Baby," Gwen says, tilting her cheek up to receive a kiss from Elliot.

"Hi, Mom, happy birthday," he says, bending to kiss her cheek.

"Happy birthday, Grandma!" his eight-year-old son, Mateo, comes barreling in, hugging his grandmother.

"En Español, mijo," his mother, Claudia, reminds him as she walks in behind him.

"Feliz cumpleaños, abuelita," Mateo sighs, and Gwen smiles at him. She knows how important it is to Claudia that her son keep up with his Spanish. As he's gotten older and been in school, he speaks it less and less, so she reminds him frequently.

"Muchas gracias, Mateo," Gwen answers, kissing his forehead. "Claudia, are those tamales I spy?"

"Sí. I know they're your favorite." Claudia sets the crockpot full of homemade tamales on the counter and plugs it in so they stay warm.

"Elliot, why weren't you carryin' that for Claudia?" Gwen scolds.

"Because I don't trust him not to drop it," Claudia laughs.

"Where's Dad?" Elliot asks.

Gwen sighs and looks at the ceiling. "Oh, he spent all week practicin' on that Mario Kart, goin' on about how he was goin' to 'take the grandkids to school,' or some such foolishness, and…"

She is interrupted by Arthur's booming indignation.

"Hey!"

This is immediately followed by the diabolical laughter of a nine-year-old girl. "Outta my way, old man!"

"You didn't have to knock me off the bridge!" Arthur protests.

"Um, yeah, Grandpa, she kind of did…" an older boy's voice answers.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"My own," the boy answers calmly.

"That's it! I'm not sharin' my name with you anymore, Artie. You don't get to have it!"

"Grandpa, you can't do that!" the girl exclaims, giggling.

In the kitchen, Gwen just chuckles and shakes her head. "Sounds like Rachel is the one taking her cousin and granddad to school."

xXx

They sit around the large dining room table, eating Grainne's fried chicken (Gwen's recipe, of course), tamales, cornbread made by Thomas' wife Sarah, fruit salad, and greens.

"Sarah, I don't know why, but yours always tastes better," Gwen says, taking a bite of cornbread. "You gave me your mama's recipe, and I've made it, but…"

"Food always taste better when someone else makes it," Elliot chimes in.

"Only because you can't cook for crap," Thomas shoots back.

"Language," Gwen says sharply when Rachel and Mateo both giggle. They think _crap_ is a bad word. Thomas does not agree.

"That costs a quarter!" Rachel declares.

"It does not," Thomas protests.

"It does," Grainne explains. "_Real_ swear words are fifty cents."

"Put it on my tab," Thomas says, waving his hand dismissively.

"You're gonna be rich, Rache," Ryan, Thomas' twelve-year-old son teases.

"Hush," Thomas says. "What she doesn't hear doesn't cost me anything."

"Elliot, how's your book coming?" Grainne asks.

"Almost done. Just waiting for Nicole to finish the illustrations."

"Another Kevin book?" Grainne's husband Tim asks.

"Of course. The first two books are still doing well. The kids like that dragon, I guess," he says with a shrug.

"Hey, Jen, I was going to ask," Artie turns to his fifteen-year-old cousin, Jennifer, "Did old Mrs. Jacobson ever decide to believe that we're cousins?"

Jennifer laughs. "Eventually. I basically had to draw her a color-coded diagram, though," she rolls her eyes.

"What's this?" Grainne asks, interested.

"Oh, my freshman English teacher – who Artie had last year – saw us laughing together in the hallway. Then I gave him a quick hug, and she assumed that we were dating," Jennifer says.

"Yuck," Artie interjects, sticking his tongue out.

"I know, right?" Jennifer agrees, making a face as well. "So I told her that Art was my cousin, and she was all, 'No he isn't.' And I was like, 'He totally is, why would I even make that up?'"

"She's really old," Artie says, by way of explanation.

"Yeah. So finally I took some colored pencils and drew her a diagram, starting with Grandma and Grandpa. Had to explain _everything,_ that Artie's mom is black so he's darker and my dad is white so I'm lighter, blah blah blah…"

"Wait till she sees me, she won't know what to think," Mateo grins.

"Teo, you won't have her," Artie says.

"How come?"

"'Cause you live up in Mequon, silly. Besides, she'll probably be retired by then anyway," Jennifer says. "Oh, Grams, when I told her your name she was like, 'Oh, okay,' like everything suddenly made sense. She said she remembers you from something you were at when you used to volunteer all the time back in the day."

"Jacobson, you say?" Gwen asks. "Short, fat lady with a bit of a mustache?"

Artie nearly falls out of his chair laughing at this.

"Yeah. I think her first name is like, Linda, or something," Jennifer says.

"Okay, yes, I do remember her. Strange lady," Gwen says, furrowing her brow.

"Yeah, well, she said you were nice. I agreed. Oh, and she also recognized that I was named after you, which is a first."

"But Grandma's name is Guinevere and yours is Jennifer," Mateo says. Rachel is nodding in agreement from her seat.

"Jennifer is the modern version of Guinevere," Grainne explains. "We updated it just like they updated my name from your great-grandmother's name, Ygraine. She was Grandpa's mom."

"Ugh, good call," Ryan says.

"Yeah," Jennifer agrees.

"So, is _everyone_ named for someone in this family?" Mateo asks.

"Well, Baby, pretty much," Gwen says. "Thomas Uther is named for my daddy and Grandpa's daddy, Grainne's middle name is Vanora, which was my mama's name, and Elliot Merlin is named for my brother, Elyan, and y'all know Merlin."

"And I'm named for Grandpa," Artie says. "Ryan, your name comes from Mom's baby brother that died, right?" He looks at his mom, and she nods a little sadly.

"And my name is Grandma Wozinski's!" Rachel exclaims, grinning. Grainne nods, smiling at her sometimes-a-little-too-exuberant daughter.

"And Mateo, you are named for my abuelo," Claudia says. "He brought our family here to the US from Mexico."

"Cool," Mateo says.

"Well, now that we all know who we are, can someone pass me those tamales?" Arthur asks, holding his hand out.

"Arthur, you go easy on those tamales," Gwen says. "You'll be up all night if you eat too many."

Arthur makes a dismissive noise and waves his hand at his grandson, asking for the tamales again while Gwen sighs and rolls her eyes.

"Grandpa, when can I drive the '65?" Artie asks, handing him the platter. Thomas, Elliot, and Tim all look on with amused interest. Arthur's 1965 Corvette is his prized possession. He purchased it in late summer, 1964, and has kept it in prime condition for nearly 50 years. Artie has been drooling over it for two years now. Thomas and Elliot have each driven it once. Briefly. As far as Arthur knows, anyway. Tim has been allowed to ride in it.

"After that performance I just saw on Mario Kart? I'd say when you're 30," Arthur answers.

"That's a video game! And I've got my license now!" Artie protests.

"Yes, for two weeks. And I've seen you drive your father's car. Maybe next year. If you're lucky. And even then, I _might_ consider letting you drive it to the end of the street," Arthur says.

"Arthur, it's only a car," Gwen says, sighing. Five sets of male eyes lock on her in stunned disbelief. "What? I've driven it plenty of times," she shrugs.

"You let _Mom_ drive it and I had to beg?" Elliot sputters.

Arthur stares coolly back. "Your point?"

Just then the doorbell rings.

"Saved by the bell," Elliot says. "Mateo, go get the door."

"Who could that be?" Gwen asks. "Everyone's here…" She looks over at Arthur and sees that he's got that I've-got-a-secret-and-I'm-trying-to-be-cool look on his face.

"Uncle Merlin! Mordred!" Gwen's question is answered by her youngest grandchild's excited squeal.

"Get a couple more places set, please," she says, tapping Grainne on the shoulder as she rushes out to greet her surprise.

"Surprise! Sorry I'm late," Merlin says, hugging Gwen warmly. "Happy birthday, Love."

"Thank you. And you ain't late if I didn't even know you were comin', Merlin," she answers. "Did you pick him up from the airport, Mordred?"

"Yeah. It was no problem, Auntie Gwen," Mordred says, smiling. "If it means I get cake, I'll do _nearly_ anything," he laughs.

"Cake is later. We're havin' dinner now, come on, Grainne is settin' up some seats for you." She walks with them into the dining room, Mateo clinging to Merlin like a monkey, where they are greeted loudly and warmly.

"Mijo, get down, you know you're too big for Tío Merlin to carry," Claudia chides. Mateo drops to the floor, looking guilty as he slides into his chair.

"It's all right," Merlin chuckles.

"Cabbage Head," Merlin greets Arthur, hugging him.

Arthur responds by shoving the side of Merlin's head.

"They only get bigger, they don't grow up," Gwen mutters to Grainne as they both sit back down.

"Don't I know it," Grainne agrees.

"Pass me those… everything," Merlin says, beckoning with both hands.

"Uncle Merlin, how is it you can eat like that? Have you always been that skinny?" Claudia asks, mystified, as she passes him a platter.

"Just lucky, I guess, and yes. Ooo, did you make these, Claudia?"

"Claro," Claudia answers. "Of course."

"Tío, I'm getting better at piano!" Mateo exclaims excitedly.

"Me, too!" Rachel pipes in.

"Well, then, you'll both have to play for me later," Merlin laughs. "And maybe you can help me play _Happy birthday_ for Grams too, yeah?" he adds, winking.

"Oh, shoot, I just remembered," Artie gets up and dashes out of the dining room.

"Boy runs around like his breeches are on fire half the time," Gwen says.

"And that's _exactly_ why he ain't drivin' the '65 until he's 30," Arthur mutters.

"He asked already, hey?" Merlin says, chuckling.

"Have you gotten to drive it, Uncle?" Elliot asks.

"Once. I don't think Arthur knows about it. Until now," Merlin laughs, glancing at Gwen, who is also laughing.

"Wait, what? What treachery have the two of you been up to?" Arthur asks, looking back and forth between Gwen and Merlin.

"Oh, Arthur, I think you were sick with the flu—"

"Food poisoning," Merlin interjects.

"Oh yes, that's right. You were bein' a right pain, and poor Merlin was visiting, and he needed to get away from you for a bit, so he went to get you some juice or somethin'. I slipped him the keys," Gwen says, laughing.

"Made dealing with your sick, whiny backside worthwhile," Merlin says.

"Uncle Merlin, I found this at a thrift shop," Artie has returned with an album in his hands. He shows it to Merlin.

"Bloody…" Merlin says, careful to censor himself in front of the little ones. "This is in really good shape."

It's a near-mint copy of Merlin's first album, _Erin Go Blue._ He flips it over. "Holy… look how young I was."

"So your ears always looked like that, huh?" Artie asks.

"Artie!" Sarah exclaims, glaring at him, but Merlin is laughing.

"It's all right, he's just teasin'," Merlin says.

"What does that mean, 'Erin Go Blue?'" Ryan asks. "Who is Erin, and why is she blue?"

"It's a bit of a pun," Merlin says, looking up from the album, avoiding reading the dedication _To my beloved Freya._ "I'm an Irish guy who plays Jazz music. Jazz, Blues, you know? 'Erin go bragh' is an Irish saying. It basically means 'Ireland forever.' So I was trying to be clever."

"Told you it was too obtuse," Arthur says.

"It's better than your suggestion!" Merlin exclaims.

"What was Grandpa's suggestion?" Rachel asks.

"He thought I should call it 'Jazz Leprechaun.' I told him that was kind of racist."

"Not to mention yuck," Jennifer says, sticking her tongue out.

"Thank you," Merlin says.

"Pass that around, please," Sarah says. "I'd like to see it."

"Everyone wipe your hands before touching it. I don't want greasy chicken hands touching my album. Uncle, will you autograph it for me?" Artie asks.

"Of course I will. After I eat," Merlin says.

"Right," Artie says, and goes to sit.

xXx

"Oh, there you are, Rachel," Gwen says, finding her youngest granddaughter in Arthur's home office. It's more of a den/hiding place now, since Arthur has been retired for nearly ten years.

Rachel is staring at the framed print of Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech that Gwen got for Arthur nearly 50 years ago. She's standing, shoes off, on the sofa cushions reading it, her lips occasionally moving.

"Hi, Grams," Rachel says, turning her face towards her grandmother for a moment. "I was just reading this."

"Did you learn about Dr. King in school?" Gwen asks, walking in, coming to stand behind Rachel.

"We always talk about him in February for Black History Month," she says, still staring at the words. "No one ever believes me when I say I'm part black," she giggles.

"Yes, well, there was a time when that would have been seen as a good thing, sweetheart. Where you would have denied to your last breath that you have a colored grandma."

"Grandma, no one says 'colored' anymore," Rachel chides, her little hands on her hips.

_She may look like her daddy, but she has her mama's mannerisms. And mine,_ Gwen thinks, smiling.

She waves off Rachel's correction. "Colored, Negro, Black, African-American, whatever. As long as it isn't that _other_ word, I don't care. In any case, that's not the point. The point is you are a lucky girl to not only be able to have some pride in the fact that you have African-American blood in you, but also to freely express that pride. When I was your age, you could have looked like you, with your dark blonde curls and blue eyes and still, if the wrong person found out you had a colored granny, you would have been treated with the same disrespect as any other colored person. I'm sayin' 'colored' now because that's what we said then."

Rachel nods, then looks up at her grandmother as a thought occurs to her. "And now we have a black president. And that's pretty cool."

Gwen nods. "Yes, it is. Grandpa and I never thought we'd see it in our time. You should have seen us smilin'." She pauses a moment, remembering Arthur's smile and his words. _"This is a big moment for America, regardless of how you cast your vote. I'm glad I got to see it come to pass."_ "And President Obama is actually biracial, like your mama and uncles," she adds.

"Oh, that's right," Rachel says. "So our family has something in common with the president!"

"That's right," Gwen says. "He's a man just like your daddy or Uncle Thomas or Uncle Elliot. Well, maybe not _just_ like Uncle Elliot…"

Rachel giggles. "Uncle Elliot is silly."

"Yes, but that's why we love him. Now, what do you think Dr. King would say about our country electing an African-American president, twice?"

Rachel screws up her little nine-year-old face, thinking. "I think he'd be happy."

"Most likely, but remember, not everyone likes the president."

"Well, from what Mommy has told me, that happens no matter who the president is," Rachel answers.

Gwen nods. "True. But you are right. I think Dr. King would be pleased that we've progressed far enough as a people and as a country to elect President Obama. It's a big step."

"It's so sad that Dr. King was shot," she says. "Do you think he'd still be alive if he wasn't?"

"Possibly, if he was lucky," Gwen says, drawing Rachel down to sit beside her on the couch now. "He'd be very old. In his eighties."

"Like Great-Grandpa Uther?" Rachel asks.

"Yes," Gwen chuckles. Uther is actually in his nineties, but she doesn't bother correcting the girl. Grainne and Tim took the girls to Memphis over their Christmas break this past winter to visit Uther. He lavished them with ridiculous gifts in his dotage, and so, at least for a while, Great-Grandpa Uther can do no wrong. "You do know why Dr. King was shot, don't you?"

Rachel scrunches up her face again. "Because people didn't like the things he said?"

"Basically, yes. He believed that people should be treated based on how they acted and treated others instead of how they look."

"What's so dangerous about that?"

_Oh, the innocence of a child,_ Gwen thinks, smiling softly. "It was a new idea. It was different. People don't like change. Black people originally came to this country as slaves," she says.

"I know," Rachel says solemnly.

"So they were automatically seen as inferior. Slavery was outlawed, but people's ideas and beliefs didn't change."  
"Why not?"

"Because they didn't _want_ to change. Rachel, there are a lot of things wrong with this world, even now. Remember last summer when that idiot went and shot up that temple down by the airport just 'cause the people that worship there look different and believe different from him?"

Rachel nods again. "That was scary."

"Scary is a good word for it. But that's the same kind of person that shot Dr. King. And that kind of person is a coward."

"It doesn't make sense," Rachel says.

"I know, Baby, it doesn't. That's why the main thing to remember is that you can't control other people, but you can control _you,_" Gwen says, poking Rachel's nose.

Rachel giggles.

"Do you remember what Grandma's favorite story is?" Gwen asks.

Rachel nods. "_The Sneetches._"

"And do you know why?"

"Because 'no kind of sneetch is the best on the beaches,'" Rachel quotes. They must have read that book thousands of times.

"That's right. I have two favorite doctors, you know. Dr. King and Dr. Seuss," Gwen says.

"Is Dr. Seuss a real doctor?"

"Not at all."

"He's dead, too?"

"Yes, they're both dead. Dr. Seuss wasn't killed, though. He died an old man. I believe he had cancer."

"Oh. But Dr. King was a real doctor?"

"Yes, but not a doctor like Dr. Edwards, your pediatrician," Gwen says. "He was the kind of doctor like…"

"Dr. McTiernan, Uncle Merlin's friend?" Rachel asks.

"Yes, like that," Gwen says. Even after 45 years, she finds it difficult to believe that Gwaine has doctorates in both philosophy and history. None of them knew he even had a brain, and now he's a distinguished professor at Memphis State. "Some doctors are called doctors because they got an awful lot of schoolin'."

"I want to be a doctor. A medical doctor," Rachel says. "So I can help people like Auntie Morgana or Uncle Elyan."

"If that's what you want to be, child, then be it," Gwen says softly. She had gotten a call from Alvarr down in Florida this morning to wish her a happy birthday. He couldn't give any good news about Morgana, who has been steadily slipping away from Alzheimer's Disease these past three years. Elyan had died the previous year from a massive stroke.

"So why is Dr. Seuss called a doctor if he's not a doctor?"

Gwen laughs. "I don't exactly know. I'll tell you this, though. Dr. Seuss and Dr. King came from very different backgrounds and cultures. Dr. King was black; Dr. Seuss was white. One did civil rights work, the other wrote children's books. But their beliefs and ideals were very similar."

"Really?"

"You'll probably understand that better when you're older," Gwen says. She bends down and kisses the top of Rachel's head.

"There you two are," Arthur says, appearing in the doorway. "We're all waitin' on you, you know."

"Sorry, Baby, I just found Rachel here reading your poster," she says, pointing up at it. "So we were havin' ourselves a little chat about Dr. King and how his work still isn't finished."

"It's not?" Rachel says. "Oh. Right, I guess it isn't…"

Arthur nods, a small smile on his face. "We can't sing 'Happy Birthday' without the birthday girl, you know. Merlin's even waitin' at the piano for you," Arthur says, holding his hand out to Gwen and helping her to her feet.

"Oh, Lordy…" Gwen says, rolling her eyes. Rachel bounds out of the room, eager to sit next to Uncle Merlin at the piano.

Arthur pauses now, and Gwen sees his eyes tracking the words on the poster. "Is it wrong to be happy when these 50-year-old words still haven't fully come to fruition?" he asks softly.

"No, Baby, it's not wrong. I was just tellin' Rachel that you can't control other people, you can only control yourself. We've worked hard for our happiness. You've helped thousands of people find theirs as well. We've instilled the same values in our children, and they've passed them along to their children. That's all we can do."

"It's been quite a pursuit, but as long as I have you, I have my happiness," Arthur says, smiling down at his wife. "Happy birthday, darlin'," he adds, bending his head to kiss her still-soft lips.

-End-


End file.
